


How Harry became MoD

by Eye_of_Purgatory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Harry is a chaotic good character in this. fight me, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eye_of_Purgatory/pseuds/Eye_of_Purgatory
Summary: What if Harry James Potter was born with a strange talent - the ability to travel through shadowsHow would this change the story as we know it?





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time a splintered man tried to kill a child, a babe of 15 months. This babe was named Hadrian “Harry” James Potter. He was a powerful child, bearing an ability which his family had not shown for generations.

The splintered man, appeared outside a small cozy home in Godric’s Hollow. His magic danced around him in amusement, reveling in the euphoric moments just before a kill. A voice interrupted him before he could act however.

“Peter is that you?” Movement could be heard as scrambling behind the door. The voice was a charismatic smooth British accent, slightly deep but still peppy.

“Peter you shouldn’t…” the door slammed open and the voice fell. The man with messy brown hair gaped for a fraction of a second, refusing to process who it was. 

“Crucio”

Horrifying screams could be heard echoing throughout the house, ones that would keep anyone with even half a soul up a night. The man with messy hair convulsed on the floor, turning into a soft shake as the spell ended. Tear streaks and puffy eyes turned the face pitiful, the face characteristic of a weakling.

“Lily! Get Harry and get out of here!” He screamed with his last ounce of strength, face weak and voice rough. A whisper of words, a blinding green light, a soft click heard in the distance.

The stair creaked as he ascended as the man headed towards a room bursting with magic, a song that sung in harmony with the wind the sea and the stars, a warm feeling that soothed and calmed. Quiet but strong underneath, misleading in it’s actions but true to it’s heart. The magic run a delicate gold, the song whispering messages of love, forgiveness, and motherhood. He knew it was meant to calm him, temper his anger, make him blissfully ignorant and receptive to its goals. 

His soul sang out to it, desiring to be content and cared for, a song of guilt and tears. Weeping for anyone to save him, to love him like his mother was too weak to do. The mind overwhelmed the soul, bringing up memories of betrayal, hurt, and Tom Riddle. The insidious green of magic of the splintered man overwhelmed that of the pretty song, suffocating it. It was even graceful in death wasn’t it, fading away like a pleasant dream.

“Please spare him! Anyone, anything but Harry. Please!” The red woman pleaded as he stepped into doorway

He asked her to step away three times before he snapped. Magic poured from his eyes and hands, ripping, mauling, killing, tearing apart the red woman until she was naught but a pile of twitchy meat on the floor. Not once did she scream, the only sound is magic dancing around her shaking form. A hummed sad tone jumped and mourned, playing at nonexistent heartstrings. The organs still move and breathe, she’s still alive. The splintered man is feared for a reason after all, the soul can never escape her meat prison under his watch. **Serves Her Right.**

The babe awakens at the sound of a cold heartless laugh, tilting his head to see the newcomer. His soft green eyes inquisitive as only a small child can be. A vivid green light fills his eyes, but before it reaches him he is gone. 

His mother’s song burns left in the room to death as fearful anger. The soul and her magic furious at the loss of a special child. The tension builds quickly, coiling tightly  as a spring, but all at once it explodes. The pure burst of magic rips the souls from their mortal shells, banishing them.

The song ends on a sad note as the babe reappears in the room as he’d never left. The room is dark, soothing the infant to sleep. The only evidence anything happened is the vivid green of the child’s eyes, luminescent in the dark, enchanting, so so very pretty.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two men enter the room while the babe is asleep. The first passed quickly, sobbing at the mess of blood on the floor, ignoring the sleeping child with the baby face of his most hated. The second man comes to retrieve the young one, bringing him out of the house as he plans in a haze of anger. Giving him to another man who cared for all who took him away. The child is left outside the door of the rotten flower alone.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

\--Petunia POV--

It’s time to get the milk today, as it is every Sunday morning at 10am on Privet Drive. Later I will go to the store as I do every Sunday morning at 11am on Privet Drive, I will then prepare lunch for my lovely boys as I do every Sunday afternoon at 1pm on Privet Drive. I will plant my flowers as I do every Sunday afternoon at 3pm on Privet Drive. I will then clean the house as I do every Sunday night at 6pm on Privet Drive. I will sing my baby to sleep as I do every night at 8pm on Privet Drive. A perfect day, as always.

My plans are ruined though as I stumble over a basket on my doorstep, really though who is so rude as to leave a package on the walkway. I should really get this mailman fired, I didn’t order a package.

But it’s a baby there, I pick him up, reading the note left on his small chest.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley_ _Number 4 Privet Drive_

_ I am sad to inform you that your lovely sister Lily and her husband have tragically died last night being murdered by Voldemort. As the boy’s closest relatives you are entrusted with his care until he attends Hogwarts school of magic at age 11. _

_ - _ _ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian  _ **_Dumbledore_ **

Of course, my freak sister got herself murdered and left her freak son behind. This won’t be that bad though, If I just raise him along my Dudders he’ll be normal there’s no way they’d expect me to raise a monster. I take the boy in my arms and bring him inside, at the sudden movement his eyes open.

Those eyes are such a vivid green, swirling as I look at them.  **Inhuman** The dark of the edge of his iris mixing with the inner  **demon** . It’s eyes look like a sea of poison  **baby Lucifer** . If I look any longer I’ll be enveloped in their aura, I know it.

In a move of fear I stuff him in the cupboard under the stairs near the entrance of the house. I can’t let him infect anyone else to freakishness with those, at least not my family. Oh god we have to take care of him what do I do? He’ll kill me I can see it in his eyes. Please god, devil, anyone savemesavemesavemesaveme.

“Petunia stop fussing over there and make me breakfast woman!” I sigh and push myself up even though I continue to tremble wildly and make my way over to the kitchen. “Woman calm your emotions. I can’t have some crying slut as a wife you know that right Petunia?” I flinch at that. I'm not the slut my sister is, she isn’t fooling anyone fucking her husband’s friends.

“V-v-v-vernon” I take another breath as I push my hand on the table to steady myself, “My bitch sister died and left us with a little freak” I sputter out.

“Where is he”

“Under the stairs, in the cupboard”

“Keep him there”

“Wh-why?”

“I can’t have my son becoming a freak can I?”

“No vernon”


	2. Outcasts

The splintered man became a splintered wraith on all hallows eve. The wraith existed in all places, but none at all. He knew all but he knew nothing, he was but he was not. A fugitive from death’s cold clammy hands, from the shackles of hell, from the repercussions of past actions, from a mortal’s greatest fear.

However, the red woman did save him from being alone for eons upon eons. The red woman became a wraith as well, another lonely being summoned to exile. The pair existed in the world where they had been all along, but in the fragments, a being one can only hear or see moments before death. Stuck between life and death. Unable to interact with the loved ones who departed, unable to interact with the loved ones left behind.

The red wraith never left her younglings side, sitting next to him as he slumbered along under the stairs. In despair but unable to save her babe, only able to pray to fate for his happiness. Mourning the loss of a beloved husband, helpless as a treasured son went to abusers to be raised with all the loving of a parasitic bug. She sung her sweet one to sleep in hopes that he’d hear the melody in his dreams.

_ Myyy dear my little one _

_ My love for you is the brightest sun _

_ Don’t be at all afraid _

_ I’ll protect you for all your days _

The splintered one watched in horror as the world proclaimed him dead and gone. Frozen to the spot as his children of darkness claimed imperious, disgracing his name in public to all in hopes they’d see the light of next sunrise.

His anger near broke into the minds of all when he witnessed his most loyal servants act dumber than children, and get sent to the gutters of society for it.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The magic of earth wept over the years as a gifted child was hurt, spells changing to a mournful tune that only the wraiths could hear.

The chosen one cried as a hot fire poker branded his left leg when he started talking before his cousin, punishing him for achievements. 

The boy-who-lived shivered as he sat locked outside privet drive on cold December night he had taken too long with Petunia’s flowers on, punishing him for sloth.

The victim howled as bleach was poured into his eyes, he had looked at his aunt in the eyes for too long, punishing him for his looks. The only reason he only needed glasses was his vibrant magic.

The young babe whimpered when his uncle beat him with a belt till he lost consciousness, a wizard had talked to him earlier in the day, punishing him for his existence.

When the child was shut away for days he sobbed, unable to understand why he had to be such a freak sometimes. Lulling himself to sleep with a song he dreamed about all his life. The one thing that he hoped proved someone loves him.

_ Myyy dear my little one _

_ My love for you is the brightest sun _

_ Don’t be at all afraid _

_ I’ll protect you for all your days _

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Harry POV- 1985

I haven’t been at school for 5 minutes yet and the teachers are looking at me weird. It’s my first day at school and I guess they don’t allow freaks. That’s why they’re looking at me funny. I know it. Aunt was right, school isn’t for freaks.

Dudley already scared all the other kids away from me and I haven’t done anything. So I do what I do best, I sit in the corner and pretend like I don’t exist, like all good freaks do. Tears run down my face before I can help it, dropping down onto my new clothes that are two sizes too big even though they’re the smallest size.

“Why can’t I just be like all the other kids?” I sob out in silent sobs, curling further into myself in the corner covered in old and broken toys, digging my nails into the dense grey carpet.

‘You’re right. You’re nothing like the other kids’ a smooth velvety voice whispered into my ear. I stand up and look around but nobody is there, only the newly gained attention from the teachers across the room.

\----------------------------------------------------------------- 1987 -----------------------------------------

Bated breath and complete stillness am I. Dudley and Pierce run around the corner to the park and start looking. They know I’m hiding here, just not where.

“Piieeeerrrceeee where isss heeee!” Wailed the fatter boy as he sits down to pout.

“I don’t knooooow, maybe under your fat ass” said Pierce in a tone mimicking Dudley’s. Under my breath I let out a chuckle unable to silence myself.

Dudley’s face red with anger looks up at the tree I perch in, the puce red turning into a wide grin as he grabs something nearby, a little pebble. I dodge out of it’s way, only to get hit by something to my left. Pierce’s smug face sits there as he grabs another rock. I look down at the rock that hit me to see what it was, a giant rough stone the size of a guinea pig, and a fat one at that. I fall out of the tree.

The leader and the wisecracker look over the little one. But before they arrive I jump up and run, run to under the street. I get there but not without three other rocks hit me, all larger than the last.I jump around the corner and sit in the darkness. I let myself go as I fall calm.

“Where is he?” A nearby voice asks, his voice is quiet for some reason, distant as an image is through a screen door.

“I don't see him either” another mutters. How is he so stupid that he can’t find me! Im three feet away for god’s sake.

They leave disappointed that their prey got away.

“Why can’t they see me? Are they blind?”

I hear a beautiful smooth voice singing in the distance. It’s deep like dark coffee and seductive as a siren’s song. It sounds familiar, as if my entire being calls out for it to meet me. I don’t resist my curiosity as I walk further into the dark. A thing stood before me, It’s darkness impossibly darker than the shadows around it.

‘Well young shadow, Nice to finally meet you’

“I’m not a shadow, you are” a dark chuckle emitted from around the being

‘Am I?’

The voice was then gone, the shadows had dispersed. The blanket of calm that had covered me was gone, leaving me cold and my wounds apparent. I return back to Privet Drive for the night. Something about me feels so different, but the same.


	3. So very different?

When the wraith who once went by Tom realized that the child was of dark magic he was the closest to a semblance of happiness he had been in many years. After he was sure the young one could talk to him he did the unbelievable. He sought out the red wraith.

The maiden of the wisps was watching the young one from afar, sitting in the trees around the primary school. The only recognizable feature from her life was her long red hair, the fiery cloud glowing from far away, her skin and eyes a pale washed out grey, features diluted and sad. She was as a porcelain doll.

The dark wraith approached, so little of him left that he stayed as a cloud of darkness, vaguely shaped as a person.

“Voldemort” The red one let out in a delicate voice soft as pastel pink.

“Evans” The dark one replied in a voice equally as dark as he was.  _ “Potter” _ she muttered. Then looked up and spoke fully.

“Going to beg me to return us?”

“No”

“Confessing final regrets?”

“I have none”

“None?”

“None truly”

“Come to belittle me, torture me?”

“No”

“What then?” Her voice turned from a soft lullaby to a more irritated harsh tone as she went on, her angelic nature wearing down from the demonic contact. The shade chuckled to himself, the fire looked at him in anger.

“You aren’t as you claim, are you?”

“Neither are you.” Her tone acquired a biting nature, and her hair started to gently lift off her willowy form.

“We all hold things separate from how we portray. Like a true Slytherin” The angel scoffed as the demon spoke, “yes Miss Evans?”.  _ “Potter” _ she whispered a second time.

“One would’ve never guessed that Vol-de-mort was hating the inability to die, would they? One would’ve never expected the actions of a  _ true Slytherin _ to be this did they? A  _ TRUE SLYTHERIN _ having ambitions to be something they ended up hating? ” Her hair wildly flew around her form, her eyes regaining a hint of the striking green they once were, her tone hysterical but her words meaningful.

“Gryffindor as always Miss Evans?” He scoffed as she glared harder and stated “Potter” but he continued, “What things you try to hide are much more though. How could a child of inky dark core be born to such light parents?”

“He’s not dark! My child would never be anything like you! You horrible, insidious, parasitic, demon!”

“How. Would. A. Dark. Child. Be. Born. To. Two. Light. Parents?” He asked in a condescending tone, speaking down to her as if she was the same age as her child. “Such a contrast, midnight blackness to blinding light. What was it? A ritual? Hidden core strength? An affair? He’s adopted?”

“I” She started, looking at the floor in a mix of embarrassment and fury. A mix of a grimace and looking just about to cry. “D-don’t know”. The innocent gentle way she said the last bit set off something in him, memories of him as a child begging bullies to stop. His inhibitions had been wrapped around him like a cloak, but now that cloak had been released to the wind and skies.

“Of course you don't. Because you’re a naive, lying, ignorant slut who can’t help in any way. All you’ve got going for you Is Dumbledore’s support and your looks. How did you trap us here, dumb luck? Scream gibberish and wave your basic stick around? Have Dumbledore use your soul as a trap? Your sister is right. You never deserved to get magic at all.”

The red wraith turned around and beckoned him off to leave, trying to hide how hurt she was.

\--------------------------------- 1987---------------

I’ve been trying to find out why I hear shadows, but nothing seems to even mention it.

My teachers every waking moment I spend observing or reading. Any science, math, theory, literature, secrets, **ANYTHING** . I read at the library every day at school. I sneak out every night from my cupboard to read. I’ve even got desperate enough to read the dictionary at times.

Still nobody with the shadows, nobody talks to them, or is a shadow. No book in the school library. No person on the streets. No teacher, no student.

Why?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A young girl is sitting in the public library in Little whinging, Surrey, fidgeting. She is about 7 years old, with long blond hair tied into two pigtails her face pale and pink, her eyes are pale and blue, her name is Hannah.

Hannah sits down, trying to escape the overwhelming presence of her muggle uncles in the one place they wouldn’t go, the library. Hannah doesn’t especially like the library, seeking entertainment in looking at the other visitors.

A prim woman reads an old collection of poems in a puffy green chair. An old woman picks out books for her two young grandchildren while they play in the corner. A young man furiously studies from books in the nonfiction section, it appears to be in the medical field. And finally, a young boy sits in front of a bookshelf reading a large book.

Hannah doesn’t have much to do, so she walks over to the young boy. He looks younger than her, but smart so Hannah thinks they can get along even if he is a muggle. The young boy has jet black hair and pale skin, his eyes pointed down at the book.

“Hi my name is Hannah!” The boy looks up at her, his eyes a beautiful vibrant glowing green.

“Harry” He said dismissively and went back to reading, but Hannah didn’t catch his tone.

“My mom says people named Harry are destined for great things. Is that what your mom thinks too?”

“I don’t know, my aunt always says me and my mom were born destined for failure though.”

“Don’t think that! Only evil people are destined to fail! Like he-w-” She realized she was supposed to keep those things a secret though when Harry opened his eyes in interest,”hi-itler”. Harry definitely noticed the slip up.

“So what are you reading Harry?”

“Peter Pan”

“Why read something like Peter Pan! Sounds boring” Hannah scrunched her face in disgust.

“I’m looking for something”

“What?”

“Stories where people talk to shadows”

“Lemme remember if i have” Hannah put her two fingers to her temple and hummed, trying to use her basic occlumency to remember better. “My mom used to tell me stories about them!” Hannah shouted in triumph, the librarian shushed her and Hannah let out a mumbled sorry.

“Really?”

“Yeah they’re called darklings. They’re really evil and they travel by shadows and they work for hell and they eat people! They’re demons that kill people when they’re little and take their place!”

“Oh” Harry said, quickly putting his book back and running away, on the verge of tears.

“I’m staying at number 39 Grecian Way if you want to talk to me again!” Hannah shouted at him as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment and criticize if you felt anything was bad!
> 
> I hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stakes a path to darkness through the wilderness of the red wraith's denial

\--Harry POV--

Should I talk to her again?

 

**She would** **_HATE_ ** **you if she knew you**

 

She doesn’t have to know. I can play nice.

 

**You can never hide your** **_FREAKISHNESS_ **

 

But I could hide it. So-ome of the kids don’t notice.

 

**She would** **_DISCARD_ ** **you when she found out**

 

Oh.

 

**She would kill you, you know what auntie says happens to demons and freaks**

 

What if she never knew

 

**Ignorance is bliss, Is it not?**

 

It

 

Is

 

**Somebody would never truly care about a demon**

 

Am I a demon?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Would that change much?**

\---------------------------------------------------Lily POV-------------------------------------------------

 

I watch as my son wakes in a cupboard another time, wrenched out of sweet dreams by the harsh reality forced onto him. The bitch unlocks the prison and draws him out, he rubs the red mark she left behind and continues along. I hurt for him so he doesn’t have to, as a a true heart protects and loves. I shield him from my pain, so he can live a life he deserves. As I am of him, and he is of me. I took all the sin so he has none, a perfect boy who deserves much better.

I want to scream at Tuney, ask her how she became like this, how she changed so much but not at all. Tuney would stand there in deny with fear, she is still the same jealous child as she was. I want to watch the whale suffer, Vernon is vile, disgusting, and deserves not to be near one as good as Harry, let alone hurt him for blameless lies. But the little big one deserves mercy, he is misguided but can hide that with practice and pride. But most of all I want my progeny to hear my love, so he knows his value, his worth.

He-who-must-not-be-named was incorrect, my little baby is as light as a the stars of a night sky, who burn white in a world of dark. He is just surrounded by the repugnant many. They deserve to be jealous, and that jealousy must be punished.

I follow him out into the garden where he tends flowers, with a futile goal of them being as beautiful as him, for a woman more dirty and undeserving as Lucifer for heaven.

I watch the piglet throw a rock at the dove, screaming insults about me and James. Harry looks farther into the dirt, and I search for the piglet and my only instinct left behind surfaces and bubbles over as unexpectedly as a cauldron of skele gro.

“ _ Langlock” _

I don’t expect the spell to work, but it is a far fetched hope that his tongue is stuck to the top of his mouth even a little, I lost my magic a long time ago. The piglet tries to speak another word, but stumbles over it. Maybe that was of my doing, but I cannot tell, though it is satisfying nonetheless.

I give in to the urge to look at my little star again, hoping to find the glee of satisfaction, or comfort is his absence. Perhaps the relief that comes after adrenaline, but find only a downtrodden teary face.

“Little dove whats wrong?”

“James and I aren’t really like that I promise. We are magic’s beautiful light children. We love you still. I'm here for you.”

Although I can't comfort him, I sit next to him and start to sing. I cannot fathom for how long I sat singing there, just anything to hope I can communicate to my saddened babe in times of harsh treatment.

  
  
  
  
  
  


I feel a gaze on me from a distance, it dirties my skin and soul. The dark one is here so I must leave.

“Harry my child, I will be with you as much as I can” He responds none as expected.

“But Harry my child, sometimes I am not worthy to be in your presence.”

“Goodbye for now, little dove.”

I turn and run as far as I can, hoping to escape what I could never in life.

 

\----------------------------------------------Harry POV-----------------------------------------------------

 

As I tend to the beautiful Petunias I feel a gaze on my back, though nobody is there, just a cold creeping at the edge of my vision, just a darkness heard only when the world is utterly silent, just a smell of secrets. Eerily similar to the feeling of the voice under the road.

This event sticks to the back of my mind as I am forgotten outside tonight. Auntie seems to do this roughly once every 17 days and I was due for another one. It is of no surprise, so I walk to the voice under the road to spend the night, just as planned.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The shadows reach out to me, clawing, grasping, holding, until the streetlight dims into nothing, and the world is finally calm.

‘Back again so soon shadowling?’ My words liquefy and drop into my stomach, so I make do with a simple nod.

‘Anything troubling you caliginous?” I look down and nod a second time in a nearly unnoticeable way.

‘Don’t worry, we can fix that’


	5. Grasping at the Untouched

The little boy didn’t return to the home of thorns after that fateful night, shocking all who knew. As even though he was the most hardened small child most had ever met he was naught but seven years old 4 days ago, but now that is not so sure.

When it came morning time Petunia Evans Dursley opened the door for her despised nephew to find nobody at all, just the sound of morning dew dropping from her garden in a soft rhythmic tap. Petunia Evans Dursley walked across her garden to open the door to the garden shed to punish her despised nephew to find nothing at all, just the scutter of a mouse on the floor. Petunia’s anger increased to a near dangerous level as she drove across the town to destroy her despised nephew, just the ring of small children’s bicycles on the side of the road.

Harry James Potter had never been noticed in Surrey before, and today was no change, as his so called family decides the best is to forget about him. 

 

\---------------------------------------------- 8 hours ago Harry POV-------------------------------------

‘Don’t worry, we can fix that’

My eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and I see the shadow man start to have a dark and vaguely human form. 

“Who are you shadow man?” I reach out to touch him to see if he is material, but the man steps back in one smooth motion. His form grows slightly clearer but still blurry to my eyes, like looking at somebody in the dark standing across a football field.

‘I…’ He stops talking, but I don’t know what reason as his facial expression is unable to read, I still can’t see him. ‘I am not who I used to be child’

“What is your name?”

‘You may address me as Marvolo, young one’

 

\------------------------------------------Present time Minerva POV------------------------------------

I look back over the essays from last year's students. Charlie Weasley’s essay is one of the finest I have had, he will make a wonderful wizard as he grows into his own skin, and out of the shadow of his brother. I’m sure. Perhaps not as flashy as his older brother though, but a headstrong Gryffindor all the like.

I root through records of my past years to search for a good lesson for this crop of students, something not too advanced but on a completely different level than the kids last year were on.

I’m halfway through the my lesson notes when the floo turns a brilliant orange and Albus steps through. Albus has the same long white beard as ever but paired with a pair of bright green and pink robes. When you pay attention to his face you see it scrunched with horrible worry. His eyes are down turned and his face worn out, bags under his eyes that are enormous, and for the first time of my entire life that I have known him this is the only where he has ever truly looked even close to his age.

“Minerva we have a serious emergency, come to my office immediately” He says with a mix of a sigh and anxiety, then steps back through the floo. I scramble up to the floo entrance and shout for the headmaster’s office.

Albus is sitting at his desk with his hands clasped, the normal trinkets and models whirring and beeping excitedly. Albus’ magic that is usually so controlled reaching out and exploring his office in a sea of bright light coming from his head that rattles all the objects in his room. The portrait of Helga Hufflepuff is in the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and they are arguing quietly, as Rowena Ravenclaw stares at the clock on the wall, and Godric Gryffindor is shouting calls to battle at us. The magic of Hogwarts seems to be calm but a quiet song of fear emanates from the depths. Severus sits at one of the chairs in front of his desk talking to Albus in speech filled with emotion in his usual black flowing robes. Fillius seems to have a pile of maps depicting muggle England, and is using a little magical quill to mark it. Pomona is trying to calm Severus down with all of the enthusiasm of a gushing waterfall, with cold calm tones that so nothing to help the situation.

“Albus what is the situation” I ask in a mask of politeness, while my internal sense of danger rings on all levels in my soul.

“Harry Potter has gone missing last night” Albus says in a strong tone that quiets all of the people in the room, partly aided by how his omnipresent magic halts and freezes the air and tone of the room. I try to suppress the shiver that comes from magic that strong acting, but am unable, with the rest of heads of house failing at that effort as well. I wonder why, even if this young boy is a celebrity and savior, this is treated as such an emergency when the Aurors are so good at their jobs. It’s not if his disappearance would be ignored by the magical public if they found out, the entire magical world would try to save his life before it became too late.

“Surely we can find the boy, it's been less than a day.” Severus growls, “I don’t see why your obsession with the boy goes to such a level where you declare a child’s misbehavior as a national emergency”

\------------------------------------------- 8 hours ago Marvolo POV-------------------------------------

The boy stared at me with his unusual looks, as when he is with humans he has messy black hair, pretty green eyes, a small and malnourished form, and slightly tanned skin from gardening in the summer sun. But now his hair has swallowed all light as Nagini swallows bunnies and small cats, it contrasts with his skin which is pale as a wonderful porcelain, but his eyes most of all capture attention. Eyes that now look nothing like the delicate ones of his mother, but have a harsh ring, a poison green brighter and greener than the Avada, shining a faint green glow on skin around his eyes. His Iris seems to engulf most of his eyes, his eyes engulf more of his now more delicate face, and his eyes engulf the onlooker as if drowning in a lake. The little one is now indisputably non human, with his elf like face and delicate light frame with hidden strength and muscle underneath. Right here and now it is undeniable that he is the young shadow as he is, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Kolusu, the god of shadows.

‘I can help you learn your powers, and who you are little Harry’ I say down to the little god in an uncharacteristic impulse for me. Something about his eyes makes me feel a protective connection to him, I must crush that eventually, but for now I accept it.

“Powers?”

‘There are a world of magical people out there shadowling, they do things that others would call miracles, they change the world around them with internal strength. And you my shadowling are the same, you have magic as well, but much stronger than all the disgustingly average people.’

\------------------------------------------Present time Minerva POV------------------------------------

“Normally young Severus this would not be treated with such severity, but this is a unique and dangerous situation.” Albus sighed and relaxed into his lush chair/

“Albus” I start, “We cannot help if you do not tell us the specifics”

“Patience is a virtue that we must all learn Minerva”

“Patience helps us not if we’re fighting against time Albus”

“We have to find the boy now Albus”

“We shouldn’t let an emergency stew Albus”

“Last night in Surrey at 12:13 am near where Harry lives there was a large burst of dark magic, more powerful than 95% of wizards are even capable at their magical peak.”

\---------------------------------------------- 8 hours ago Harry POV-------------------------------------

“Can you teach me Marvolo?” He stands up straight and chuckles.

‘Why yes, I can. First you must seek out your inner self, the part of you that touches the shadows’ I stand up and focus on my soul, which dances in glee and darts out of my grasp as if I was trying to catch a buttered ferret. But the shadows seem to grasp for something deeper than my soul, something that glows like a poisoned sun, something that dances a slow tune, eager to jump out at the soonest reason. More than anything at this moment I want to reach down into it and let it engulf me, like my dreams do when the world is too harsh for thoughts, but it seems so very powerful, and something seems to be bounding it. The bounding force is cold and orderly like a hospital, and looks a sharp difference to the thing underneath which I now recognise to be my magic, the difference of light and day with it’s pale gold and bright tethers holding onto an engulfing inky green just barely.

‘Have you found it?’ Marvolo’s words drag me back out into the light of dark, so in shock of the change in surroundings I just nod my head a bit.

“Free it’ He says and part of it sounds on the surface like a request, but to my magic and soul it sounds like a command that I cannot ignore on threat of my life. I delve into it again, but this time ignore the barrier of gold, but it doesn’t budge. It stretches but refuses to break or show strain, I can practically hear it laughing at my failure in Dudley’s voice. I want it to break so badly, but i’m not allowed to hurt my cousin so I recoil to watch the trapped living beast. I sit there too ashamed to go back for Marvolo to hate me for the failure like I am, all while the magic talks and talks.

**Break it, Free me**

I can’t

**We can work together, like magic and soul are supposed to**

I can’t hurt it

**Don’t be the failure it tells you we are**

But I can’t be something I’m not

**We are stronger than that child ever was, we are shadows, we are strong, we don’t have to face punishment**

I want to be

**And we are, if we let me out we can take revenge on our cousin, our auntie, Vernon**

I wish I didn’t have to live with them, but that’s what freaks are supposed to do, right?

**You are no freak, they are just lying to you**

I am a freak, just like my useless drunk, car-crash-death parents

**Your parents were wonderful witches and wizards just like you, I heard Auntie talk about it**

They lied to us! How dare they, I-I-ah-I mean why did they lie?

**Because they are evil people who are jealous of our powers**

To take revenge?

**Yes, and when you break the bonds placed on us we can join together, and be stronger than you could ever imagine**

To take revenge!

**To take revenge! To achieve our dreams! To Knowledge! To Power! To Independence! We will achieve greatness!**

I grab at the restraints to tear them away from us, they bounce back, they stand strong. I can’t let that happen, if it stands we will be seperated, if it stands Ill be treated like a freak, if it stands I can never hurt the Dursleys like they hurted me. This single minded determination guides my hands to find the end of the rope and carefully unwrap it with help of my magic, leaving it in a pile then casting it out of my mind like the evil force deserves. My magic jumps at me and explodes, I don’t realize that the exertion has knocked me out, and fall to the ground trapped in my own mind in utter glee with my intact soul.

\------------------------------------------Present time Minerva POV------------------------------------

“We can find him Albus” I state with a determined strength and command.

He looks me directly in the eyes, with his pale blues stinging with the exhaustion and stress he has undergone today, “I do hope so Minerva”

\------------------------------------------Present time Harry POV----------------------------------------

I wake up still cuddled by the shadows, my magic singing and dancing a happy tune around me. I feel I am physically still under the bridge, but in my gut I know that the shadow world is a completely different realm, I stand up to look for Marvolo, but find nobody.

There is only one thing to do now, revenge.


	6. Shackles lost

\---------------------------------------------------Harry POV---------------------------------------------------

I stand up after my impromptu rest under the bridge last night, embracing the pillowy feel of dark clouds wrapping around me like sentient quilts. I know I want to kill the adult Dursleys, and honestly it scares me how much I notice changes like this in me right now, but need to test my powers first. I need to return to the realm of humans before I am physically able to take more action, so it only makes sense for this to be the first test of the day.

I don’t know how magic works, but I have a gut feeling that I just demand the actions and they happen. Most likely this gut feeling is accentuated by the way my magic seems to keep talking to me even when we fused (I should really give it a name if it keeps talking to me). But I can’t be sure due to the lack of helpful information coming from it’s incessant talking.

**Yeah you’re correct**

So I wish to go pass through this veil, to no effect.

So I wish to be taken to the playground, and it almost works, my magic tries but knows not how right now. If I could tell anything I would say that to the magic this travel was an instinct, or something like a rush of adrenaline, but not something it ever knew how to control.

So I wish to be taken to the playground a second time, focusing on every sense that the area emits, and my magic riles up, preparing to propel me through this veil. But I accidentally think about number 4 privet drive instead, with the emotions and familiarity involved with that location magnitudes above the separated and apathetic park.

The world suddenly twists and morphs through a seemingly endless haze of swirling, mixing green and black gas. A split second is dragged into an hour, where I am dragged to a fuzzy dream like scene. I arrive just in time to witness a scene of a young woman with red hair scream and beg to a man with a snake like appearance in what looks like a child’s room. The scream resonates through my bones while the vision is of a vivid poisonous sickly green erupts in my field of view. I see this snake like man age backwards over time after that, the scene ending with him in his teenage years as a man with a proper appearance, brown hair and icy blue eyes. Then there is a flash of snake like yellow eyes and all is gone. Him in his teenage years is so starkly different to how he is earlier on, as if for some reason he got disfigured over time or something. The scene turns back into the myriad of greenish black swatch until I am punted out into the front lawn of privet drive. Privet drive looks the same as always, with the very unremarkable house, and the well kept garden, he only change I notice right away is the sun seems to be already setting

This air around me is suffocating, it seems now to lack something that the shadow world had in abundance. My joints don’t seem to be liking this, and I feel far older than my meager 7 years. I should keep a list: How Harry James Potter has changed since going insane at 7 years old: Part 698,324.5.

Mrs. Dursley walks out of the house, and my mouth goes dry. I don’t remember how I thought I had the courage to do this before, and her eyes sheen with an anger that makes me want to hide and cry in the cupboard under the stairs like a good freak should. The anxiety makes my stomach feel horrible, my head feels as If i stood up too fast multiplied by 10, and I feel my entire body uncontrollably shaking. My eyes sting with such an abundance of tears that I can barely see the difference between the plants in the garden. I notice that my ears seem to both ring and register nothing at all in between bouts of hyperventilation.

She finally notices me shaking in a pile on the ground and starts to scream with all the restraint of a mother wolf. Her angry words flow past my ears like rain on an umbrella as I focus on the wave of my magic that's taking the action I am too craven to. The black stream stains the grass as if it was rubbed with ashes of poor sacrificial animals, and I watch in horror as it touches auntie’s foot. It spreads out into the size of a small puddle, drinking in all the light of the world around it, looking like a puddle sized piece of ground was just deleted from the universe.

Even if I wanted to stop it now, which in all senses of it I do not, I doubt I have the pure and utter control necessary for a task of that magnitude. My magic has never, and according to it, will never be controlled. The magic starts out coy and playful, touching her shoe gently as she stands still, but when she tries to move close to me it suddenly jerks around her foot. I watch as the tendril wraps around her ankle, and in less than the time it takes for a heart to beat, an eye to blink, or a breath to be taken she is dragged into the endless abyss that is my magic. I can see her reaching out and pleading to me for help, but the tears from my traitor side do nothing to help her fatal situation when the rest of me is determined to watch her die.

“Help! Help me! Get over here boy and help me now or else!” She hollers, but my feet are stuck to the ground with something stronger than superglue.

“You are in so much trouble after this!” And my magic responds to that threat by dragging her farther into itself for just a second. I can see the carefully tended and cared for blonde hair on her head turn black, wither up, then break off as she drags her head out of it to breathe. Tear tracks stain her face, but her body is turning to something similar to stone, breaking off into the abyss just like her hair had a moment ago. Her breathing is loud and horribly strained, every breath a battle that racks her chest and lungs.

“You monster, using your disgusting magic to hurt us when we let you live. We should’ve burned you at the stake.” She let out in short and quiet gasps as she struggled for air in a race against time. 

Something feels like it snaps, and the nervous and anxious emotions overriding me break into insanity. I start to laugh a cold, maniacal, insane, and depraved laugh mixed in with rapid silent sobbing. Something runs through me like an instinct I ignored for so long, I feel the magic thrumming at my bones and it is a part of me, not just a separate entity. I finally know what it is to have magic at my fingertips, so I command my magic to drag her under the black pond of excited magic. It feels like a wonderful high when her body goes limp to the depths of hell where she belongs.

**This is what we wanted isn’t It**

Yes

**She did deserve it though, we did nothing wrong**

I guess so

  
  
  


I know so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions for the name of Harry's magic?


	7. Aftermath

**Date: 18 August 1987**

**Reporting Auror: Kingsley Shacklebolt**

**Attending Aurors: Alastor Moody; Kingsley Shacklebolt**

**Incident type: Missing Child; Muggle Related Violence; Dark Magic; Possible Child Abuse**

 

On August 18, 1987, Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody at precisely 20:42 arrived at the address 4 Privet drive to investigate the disappearance of one Harry James Potter age 7. On the front garden was a black cloud of dark magic surrounding an unknown witch or wizard, features unknown; power level approximately 75 - 100th percentile range. Upon apparition the mage left behind the mutilated remains of Petunia Dursley, who appeared to have undergone some mummification like process. The inside of the house was free of magical remnant except a small cupboard under the stairs, theorized by the present Aurors to be residence of Harry James Potter due  to the possessions and remnant. The Department for Magical Child Protection and the National Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children have been contacted over the stated issue to investigate further and come to an official conclusion.

 

**An official file for the mystery mage has been detailed and attached below:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Unknown Mage: 198141523**

**Codename: Shadow**

 

**_Magic_ **

**Magical Core:** **-**

**Theorized Magical Core: Dark**

_ : Dark Magic detected around the area of the muggle neighborhood : _

 

**Magical Abilities: Apparition**

**Theorized Magical Abilities: Shadow Magic, Lifesteal**

_ : Large cloud of possible shadows around the suspect :  _ **PETUNIA E. DURSLEY** _ murder matches records of Lifesteal: _

 

**Magical Percentile: 75 - 100%**

**Theorized Magical Percentile: 85 - 100%**

_ : Suspects with abilities of Lifesteal and Shadow Magic range from 85% - 100% : _

 

 **Wand Use:** **-**

**Theorized Wand Use: Wandless Magic**

_ : Wand not detected on Suspect : _

 

**_Character_ **

**Positive Reactions:** **-**

 **Theorized Positive Reactions:** **-**

 

 **Negative Reactions:** **-**

**Theorized Negative Reactions: Murder; Violence**

_ : Near recent corpse of   _ **PETUNIA E. DURSLEY** _ : _

 

**Hostility Level: Non Hostile**

**Theorized Hostility level: Highly Hostile**

_ : Possible Murderer of   _ **PETUNIA E. DURSLEY** _ : _ **  
  
**

**Threat Level:** **-**

 **Theorized Threat Level:** **High**

_ : High power level : Dark Magic : Possible hostility : _

 

**Highly Wanted for Questioning Concerning HARRY J. POTTER and PETUNIA E. DURSLEY**

**DO NOT HOSTILELY ENGAGE WITHOUT SUPPORT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE**

 

**_Identity_ **

**Age:** **-**

**Theorized Age: 17+**

_ : Highest lifetime power after magical maturity :High power level : _

 

 **Height:** **-**

 **Theorized Height:** **-**

 

 **Race:** **-**

**Theorized Race: Human**

_ : Highest population : Possible magical abilities more common in humans : _

 

 **Identity:** **-**

**Theorized Identity: Voldemort; Grindelwald**

_ : Powerful Magic : Dark Magic : Possible Hostile : Possible High Threat : Possible Age : Possible Race : _

 

 **Affiliations:** **-**

**Theorized Affiliations: Death Eaters, Gellert Grindelwald’s Army**

_ :Possible Violence : Possible Identities : Dark Magic : _

 

**_Contacts_ **

**18.8.1987: General cloud of darkness around unseen figure, near murdered body of PETUNIA E. DURSLEY. Witnessed by AUROR ALASTOR MOODY and AUROR KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT**

 

\------------------------------------------------------Kingsley POV------------------------------------------------------

 

The old wicker door creaks as it opens, the lack of enchantment an immediate reaction to the feel of the rough and dead wood, specially at the insistence of Alastor. In fact, none of the items in this room are enchanted, and no casting magic allowed in this room either. Alastor is sitting at an equally lifeless desk, holding an un-inked quill in his left hand, his right hand sorting through a thin pile of parchment documents. On his desk also sit large leatherbound book of all the dark wizards of recent times, a small thimble of dark liquid, and an assortment of photos in a pile just left of where his left hand rests. When the door opens he looks up at me with his horrible, chilling, mismatched eyes. His face is so grizzled and uneven, face mad rough by age spots and war wounds. The dark magic blasted chunks off of his face, then hid in his mind to haunt him with visions of those he couldn’t catch.

“I brought you tea” The tea emits a faint smell and steam on Alastor’s desk, he grumbles something then looks back down at his papers but makes no move to touch the tea. The top paper is the report on the shadow mage, and I can’t blame him for being scared again, this is the first documented display of powerful dark magic since all the death eaters got locked up in Azkaban.

Though I didn't come here for tea and smalltalk, as unlikely as that would be with Alastor, especially if he refuses to talk to me or drink the tea I brought. From my robes I retrieve the most recent Daily Prophet article and drop it on Alastor’s desk,  **DARK WIZARD REPORTED IN SURREY, COULD THIS SIGNAL A RISE IN THE DARK ARTS?**

“I've got half a mind to turn you into a blithering toadstool Shacklebolt” 

“I-uh-m sorry sir. We could only hide one of the titles from the prophet” Moody looks up at me with disappointed and distrusting eyes, “We uh hoped this one would lessen the possibility that the public would find out about the other case.” He picks up the tea and pours it into the trash offhandedly, I’d forgotten that he still refuses to consume things others prepared.

“So you decided to show a dangerous dark wizard exactly where we are and what we know.”

“The boss decided that controlling populous panic was more important to the ministry than preventing deaths.” Alastor snorts,

“Ain’t that the truth.” I look back down at the foreboding documents, at such a dreadful augury.

“We can catch them.” While I say this to Alastor, I say this to myself for reassurance, though is obviously nervous snicker destroys that possibility.

Both of his eyes stare directly into mine in a rare act of intimidation, “Nobody could catch Voldemort” He lets out in a cool but somber tone. I look over to his desk again in confusion, only to see that the documents under the shadow mage’s are He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s.

“Alastor, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named died 6 years ago. It is a waste of time to continue looking.”

Alastor’s mad eye spins to looks to me, while his other eye and body continue looking over the files of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s attributes. I know that a powerful, evil, dark wizard has come, I'll see that scene in my nightmares, but that doesn't mean somebody can come back from the dead. Or else we’d be dealing with something a lot worse than a petty Dark Lord come time.  

“You never know” He grumbles out as if angered and disappointed in me for even questioning his superior skill. He stands up to walk the file over to the filer in the corner of the room, a creaking sound following after every step from his wooden leg. “He could still be out there today because people like you never bothered to check for a corpse”.

“There was another body there beside Lily Potter, who else would it be. And he hasn’t committed any acts since then.” 

“Does it have a face then.” I was about to raise my voice to recite the information, but my voice catches in my throat and I realize he had just said something.

“.... No?”

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Never let your guard down around dark wizards, they’ll stab you before you can recite out their petty miranda rights.”

I move to leave Alastor in the office to his grumbling and the faint sounds of the crickets from outside while he embarks on this fruitless effort. As the door is closing I could barely hear when he grumbles out something, “Still got a lot to learn kiddo”.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------Harry POV-------------------------------------------------------

‘You must figure this out on your own little one.’

“Yes . . . but I don’t know where to start”

**Don’t look at me, I don't know either**

“You’re just the correct level of unhelpful” If I could see any of the people I’m talking to i’m sure they’d be smirking, but at the moment all I see is the shadow I cast on the wood chips of this playground. 

‘You should learn the facts of the world. Nothing is for free.’ Marvolo keeps talking as I kick the shadow my form makes.  _ Who would’ve known that you still cast shadows when you’re in the shadow realm? _

**I don’t know Harr, probably shoulda been me**

I don’t want to talk to Marvolo right now, so I just start walking away from his talking form. A small child walks up to my moving shadow to touch it, marveling at the anomaly though not questioning it due to his extremely young age. He tries to touch the invisible object that is me due to his insatiable curiosity, but I flinch away instinctively before his hand even reaches the folds of excess fabric on my shirt. I can practically hear the screaming internal questions of that child concerning my shadow.

**What happens when somebody touches are body like this? We should test it! Right here! Right Now! I’m sure nothing bad could ever happen.**

**Please, cmon**

**I’m here toooo, listen to me when I tell you the best advice on this side of Mar’s ugly face.**

“I'm not going to test my magic on a little kid.” I focus back on the child so I can justify ignoring the pestering chatter, the little boy has dusty red hair and an understandable chubby little face. His eyes are an icy blue with hints of green, and his skin a somewhat honey like tone. He walked away from me about a minute ago, but there seems to be nobody who looks even remotely like him within a 250m radius.

I run over to him, trying to change my realm on the move, succeeding at changing my realm but failing miserably at doing it with any semblance of grace and face plant near him. I wipe the grass off of my trousers while moving towards him at a far more reasonable pace than I had set before

“Where are your parents?” He looks up at me, and falls over in surprise. I help him up back to his feet and he shakes his head. He clings onto my arm as his eyes well up with tears, and I wrap my arms around him in response.

“Oh. Do you have anyone watching you today?” He looks up at me with large watery blue eyes and shakes his head again at me.

“What’s your name little one?”

**So you ask his name before you do mine, huh!**

“Sorry” I spit out at the voice in my head, but the little boy just digs his head into my arm in a somewhat painful way considering my arm is quite thin.

**Nah don’t worry about it, just came up with it earlier today**

“What is your name?” I ask slightly more insistently to both of them, the little boy finally meets my eyes again.

**Ankoku**

“Sam”

“Do you want me to help you go back home?”

He violently nods his head, retreating to the shelter of my arms

 

-

 

We make it back to his house after 3 hours and little help from Sam. Though when we arrive at the door he refuses to let go of my arm.

“Don't leave me Harr” He muffles into my shirt as he hugs me with even more vigor than the last 180 minutes.

“Its ok, I'll be back tomorrow” 

When Sam turns around I fade myself back into the shadow realm, better for him to never have to say goodbye.

**You’re never going to go back there are you**

“Yeah”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking requests for any specific POV characters!


	8. Jealousy and Betrayal

“I wish I had parents” The little demon says as he sits in the shadows in a tree watching Sam play. Sam was covered in dirt with scuffed knees in a small grassy yard surrounded by a wood fence on a nice one of Britain's rare sunny days. The guardian of Sam is a tall woman with chestnut hair somewhat similar to his but not exact. I can’t clearly make out what they say from this far away but from the face that the shadow child holds it must be something about parents. Shadowling moves his head in a way that is possibly a nod but impossible to tell, but in that movement he accidentally passes through a leaf, flinching violently. In that moment he looks just like a cute child scared of bugs, instead of the possible mass genocide machine that he really is under all that skin.

_ Don’t forget who he is _

‘You have me, I can be your parent.’ If he could see my face he would've seen my look at disgust at the mere prospect of taking care of a snotty bitchy child. I can practically hear the prospective wails and screams from the red wraith if I do adopt her only child, and that would make it almost worth it.

_ You have to gain his trust _

“Yeah” He mutters to himself almost silently, “Wait, no-n-no.” I cock my head as it is one of the only movements he would be able to detect me making, “I mean like a real parent Marvolo.” He thinks for a second, “N-not that I don’t want you to help me though.” He is amusing even if insufferable, so I let out a convincing but slightly forced chuckle.

_ Don’t get attached _

“Like I want my real parents.” He looks back at Sam for a few seconds then curls into himself, “They loved me right?”.

I feel myself freezing, unable to do anything but stand still and listen, not like he would notice anyways. The dying face of James Fleamont Potter flashes before my eyes, and I hear the scream from the mistress of red echoing through my skull. I almost feel, remorse?

_ Where did all of these emotions come from? _

He looks wistfully at Sam cuddling with his keeper, “I can almost see my mom singing to me when i’m sad.” He stops focusing on anything, and his eyes cloud over with a dark fog, until there is no iris left in sight, “I have a nightmare,” the fog around him starts to form into vague shapes, “My mom sings to me,” the fog turns into the vague shape of a woman and a little child, “She makes bright orbs float around the room,” the shadow turns into a very defined shape of Lily Potter with her son that are recognizable at a sight, “She -” he chuckles and tears start to stream down his face “- tells me that nothing ca-a-an hu-ur-t me-e-e”. He suddenly stops sobbing but tears still fall down his face, “My dad comes in too,” the perfectly formed nearly solid people gain James Potter, who puts his arm around Harry and smiles at him, “He tells me fun stories,” the little shadow crystal of James starts to gesture wildly next to harry with a giant grin on his face, “Until I fall back asleep.” The shadows of James and Lily tuck Harry in then leave the room, all of it fades as the fog in the shadowling’s eyes fades.

Harry curls up into himself on the branches and starts to violently sob. He is hyperventilating so hard that his body is racked with tremors, emotion seeping out into the air in tangible quantities. This magic rattles the air as it moves back to curl in upon its owner, stirring up something reminiscent of a small and gentle but very fast tornado. The air around me is freezing cold, all of the heat was dragged back inside of his protective circle like a dangerous snail under stress. 

_ Something’s not right …  _

This little loss of control has been going along for the last minute or so, escalating into a violent tornado about my height that threatens to drag me in and consume my magical energy into its own. It should be starting to die down now but the tremors of his small body only increase, and the leaves around his small form start to sway to the movement of his winds.

_ The leaves are moving?! _

Genocide's outburst starts to increase, now moving the outside world as much as it does for the in between realm; leaves turn black right before the wind rips them from the trees, everything around him starts to crumble into a fine black powder, the previously blue sky turns dark and red, the world shakes for every one of his many and violent tremors. The magic pulls at my soul with a small persistent tug, like the addiction to the 3 horrors.

_ I have to stop him _

‘Shadow! Calm down!’ He doesn't respond, but he hears me, the magic tries to tug me right next to him, and it works. I tug against the tsunami coming my way, succeeding just barely where all other wizards would’ve failed.

_ You have to kill him before he kills you. Not now though, wait. _

‘It’ll all be ok! Just calm down.’ I say this in my nicest voice, a sweet silky sing song honeyed voice., but the magic continues to rage around me and him.

_ This is getting dangerous _

‘YOU WILL REIN IN YOUR MAGIC NOW HARRY!’

The world stills, reverting back to how it was before in a near instant but the tree is turned to a thin charcoal, “‘m sorry” he mutters to the floor.

\----------------------------------------------- Severus POV ----------------------------------------------------

In the deepest part of Scotland lays a Castle called Hogwarts, in the deepest part of the castle lies the dungeons, in the deepest parts of the dungeons lies the potions rooms, in the deepest part of the potion rooms are where Severus Snape lies.

In my hands lies the horrible report of the shadow mage that will stain the world with darkness, starting with killing the child of my best friend.

_ Former best friend, I didn’t deserve her _

Perhaps killing is incorrect, but I cannot fathom what else would’ve happened to the boy who lived. If he lives, it might be to live out a worse fate than death, which would be the better even still.

_ I have to save him, no matter the chance. _

I can’t help but blame myself for his possible death, I tried to convince Albus that his disappearance was just James-esque rebellion …. Until Petunia died.

_ I promised Lily, I promised her. _

Petunia’s corpse was horribly mutilated, and some magical experts say that her death would’ve been mind destroying painful, even if she survived she would’ve lost her mental capabilities. The magic seemed similar enough to the burst when Harry disappeared too … 

 

_ Oh sweet Merlin what happened to her son, she’d kill me if she was still here. _

 

On my desk sits one of the few pictures that exists of James’ spawn after infancy, a school photo taken once a year that must be kept on records. The boy looks similar to James, a similarity that makes me retch, but has his own distinctive features as well. His eyes are the same as my friend’s, but a far more violent green, and he shares the same skin tone and facial shape that the young Lily had. His hair is a wild dark black, similar to my own, that has all the wild features of James.

_ He could’ve been my son _

My eyes blur, and I can picture him with Lily and I, raising him, smiling at him, being a loving family together.

_ But you messed up, you’ll never escape that past _

He looks a bit incorrect though, his face is unnaturally pale and defined, his expression sad and somber. His clothes are too baggy for him, hanging off of his features in a way that gives him a ghoulish look, and he hides in those large clothes. Suddenly out of my vision I see the deep purple of a bruise almost concealed under the fabric of his uniform.

_ What did Tuney do to him? I should’ve protected him for Lills. _

 

_ This is my fault _

 

_ Oh god this is all my fault _

 

_ I killed her, then her child _

 

My hand grasps around this small photo, every second his face seems to look more like a child of me and Lily, my hands turn white with it in my grasp. My dark onyx eyes meet the toxic green ones that stare back at me from the surface of a photo, he looks angry at me, like he should as I ruined his life.

 

_ I will find you Hadrian James Potter, dead or alive, trust me. I want to help you, just show me where you are _

 

_ Please _

 

_ Please _

 

_ Pleeaaaseee _

\-------------------------------------------------------- Harry POV ------------------------------------------------------

“You came back Harr!!” Sam shouts, and runs towards me sitting in the ashes of this poor tree feeling utterly exhausted mentally, physically, and magically. I tiredly wave back, not really processing what’s happening as I try to shift around.

**Uh Harr?**

I nod and make an affirming noise, as Sam stops to sit in front of me, staring curiously at my chest. Marvolo chuckles softly in the background as he tends to do, thinking back on it he chuckles that exact same way a suspicious amount.

**So we’re not exactly …**

“What is it?” Unlike usual, Sam doesn’t react to the question, continuing to sit patiently in front of me showing no tells that he heard me.

**We aren’t in the human world**

Oh. OH. Without really thinking about it I shift myself back into the realm of the humans, flinching heavily at the jarring change in air quality.

“There you are Harr!” Sam jumps up to hug me, as his aunt turns to look at us with a strange expression on her face.

“Uh-Hi Sam! How -uh- could you see me here before?” I stutter over my words an odd amount, like if you stuck horse hair gum on the roof of a monkey and told it to sing karaoke, but Sam just continues smiling.

“You’re my imaginary friend! Just like auntie says so! So of course I can see you!” He just hugs me more, “Auntie says you can’t feel imaginary friends but i'm not convinced,” he hugs me a bit more.

“But Sam, how did you see me before now?” I ask this genuinely curious, nobody else had managed to see me before in the past week.

“Whenever you’re around you cast a- a- a” he scrunches his face in concentration, “dark flat person on the ground that looks like you”

**I don’t know whether that kid is smart, or if we’re just really dumb.**

“Of course I do!” It’s a bit faked, but only the part where I affirm ‘of course’, I am really excited that I know now, “You’re really smart Sammy”

Sam’s aunt looks at us, “Sam, It's time for dinner come inside!” So Sam looks at me with puppy eyes, which Marvolo of course laughs at, and Ankoku just watches in amusement. 

“Its ok Sam”

He hugs me even harder than he had before, “Thanks for coming back Harr” then he runs back to meet his aunt. 

\------------------------------------------------------Marvolo POV ------------------------------------------------------

‘Child, you must learn to control your magic better’

“I know I know” He kicks the ash of the tree on the floor, but it just puffs up into a cloud, causing him to cough and furiously rub his eyes.

‘This is important, you can’t just brush this off’

_ One more magical outburst like this will kill me, I know it _

Instead of responding he just annoyedly mumbles and wipes the soot off of his clothes obsessively.

_ I have to do something about this _

‘What was that Shadow?’

“I said,” he mumbles this, but I clear my throat loudly so he looks up at me again, “It -uh- would be a lot easier if I could get help from wizards”

_ Wait, It doesn’t have to be me who acts it out _

I sigh loudly, causing him to look defeated, ‘Are you asking me for help so soon again shadow?’ 

_ I need a way to get to my followers _

“And what if I was? What would you do then?” He sounds polite, bold, but curious, so similar to how I was at that age when I wanted something.

‘I told you before that nothing in this world is for free young one.’ He looks disobedient so I make my tone more disciplinary and cold, ‘Did you forget that already?’, He transfers himself to the shadow world. It could not even be argued that even at such a short time interacting in the shadow world, he looks far more comfortable and in his element in the realm of the dark fog.

“No”

‘What do you mean no? Do you just refuse to operate by the laws of the world?’ He looks defiant, ‘You are no god, no matter how much you might want to be one Shadowling. You must follow the laws of the universe like every other filthy mortal you share a plane with on a regular basis.’ My temper rises as I am reminded that the stupid prophecy says he is destined to be my equal, ‘Just because you have a bit of mediocre magic tricks doesn’t mean that the universe revolves around you. You are weak’

He looks as if that intimidated and scared him a bit, but he puts his chin up, widens his stance, and crosses his arms, “I intend to make a deal with you.”

_ This sure is mighty convenient _

‘Really’

“What do you want?”

‘You will write a letter for me.’

In about fifteen minutes he returns with an enormous grin on his face, a muggle ballpoint pen in his right hand, and a piece of miscellaneous printer paper in his left.

 

So I have him write the letter in the Death eater code, to send the letter to a particular werewolf.

 

As soon as I am about to leave, the boy stops me by calling out to me.

“Marvolo!”

‘What?’

“Your end of the deal!”

_ I don’t really want to help him, but what’s the risk? _

‘Diagon Alley, the leaky cauldron’ I turn my back to him as I fade away into the fog of distance.

 

The boy should die by the next full moon, which is tomorrow as a matter of fact.

 

Do I regret it?

 

No

 

I wouldn’t even consider it.

 

Not worth my time.

 

Most definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that Severus chapter was good enough! Anyone else want to suggest another POV character?


	9. While it all falls apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry that this chapter is delayed, for some reason I had writers block for this one.

\-------------------------------------------------Kingsley POV------------------------------------------------------

Inside this small - roughly 10 by 15 feet - and cluttered room, the decor a strange but comforting mix of messy papers, and a lived in area, with all the cleanliness of a tired mother shows the character of this room. The walls are a soft pastel pinky-off eggshell white color, where the color of the rest of the room is over saturated with the light coming from the window designed to face the sun at nearly every point of the average school day in a place such as surrey. Although now at this time in the night after the end of her school day, the moon is the only light that shines through that large open window, the rest of the world of this room lit by the soft yellowish standard school lights present. The window is dirty, with slight indications of moss, flowers, and weeds crawling at it but somehow either brushed away with a broom or simply ignored by whoever watches this place. The room is covered in children’s art, but all of a similar style and colors, seeming to indicate that this is not the work of a whole class but of one to a few individuals, most likely the children of this occupant instead of the students taught at this school. Looking away from the walls, the floor is decorated with the same dense, gray carpet that furnishes all of the classrooms, an easily cleanable, unstainable, smell absorbing monstrosity that gives everything a cheap sense of smell and sight, unseemly in this otherwise collected and confidently sophisticated but underplayed and humble room. The desk is covered in wide ruled lined paper ordained with the writing style of children in early to mid primary school, complete with a dull pencil scrawl, bad spelling, and atrocious grammar. In the corner sits a box stuffed full of files, watch with a beautiful printed child’s name to label it, with the file of Harry James Potter sitting on the top of the filing box instead of inside where it obviously belongs and the others already are.

A young woman -muggle- sits on a creaking desk chair in front of the small desk in the back center of the room, in front of the two chairs where we sit to talk. Her face is nice, but ordained with a few signs of age and miscare but none telltale enough to give any certainty whatsoever, leaving the estimates of her age surprisingly wide, in her thirties to early forties. Her hair is a somewhat wispy brown, obviously very naturally thin, pulled into a small ponytail that does a poor job of containing flyaways. She has a desire to show some of her personality on the outside, her outfit being a pair of beige khakis with a red woolen sweater with the poorly embroidered message, ‘Knowledge is Power’ in a garish startling watered down orange that is difficult to read against the background.

The files recovered from the muggle government say that she is the 37 year old woman named Allison Trishkala, who has worked at Surrey Primary School for 13 years. The other staff have said various things about her, ranging from a polite remark of her being nice, to a more brash remark of her being a bit off if we know what they mean - we don’t, thank you very much. The students going to summer school seem to like her, and we have come to know that she is referred to as Missus Ali or Miss Tris. This woman is by all natures an unremarkable muggle, who goes to work at 7am each morning to talk to her staff and make tea, who teaches a class of 7 year olds that resets twice every year, who goes home to her young daughter every night as a single mother. She is obviously frustrated by the people she is teaching at the moment, but accepts that she is desperate, and won't get her points across to children who have already failed a grade in elementary school. Although this woman has the noticeable distinction in the eyes of us - and more importantly the who wizarding world- for being the teacher of the youngest ever wizarding celebrity in modern times, Hadrian James Potter.

Alastor decides to helpfully interrupt my thoughts on the teacher, “What is your full name,” He asks this in the most confident way I have seen, asking a question as a command. That unsettles people but I can’t be truly sure that he knows that. It’s still a bit strange to me that he bothers to ask a question that we already have reliable evidence on, but questioning their methods of the great Alastor have never served to stop cases of put criminals behind bars where they belong.

“My full, legal name, is Allison Emilian Trishkala.” She fidgets as she says this, under the sunglasses altered infamous gaze of Mad Eye Moody. Alastor scribbles this down with a muggle fountain pen on muggle paper, decorating edges with helpful notes on her quirks and exact body language, he manages to write this freakishly fast in a way that mesmerizes when looked upon. He humps in a way that most people interpret as smug disbelieving suspicion, although while he does this he scribbles down, ‘Typical scared timid muggle impressions’. It's amusing to watch Alastor as he does this right now, he tries so hard to appear in his element in this foreign world, and is succeeding in some strange way. But, much of his typical look is diluted by this disguise, his hair turned a dusty gray red by a glamour, large clunky sunglasses to hide his different colored and fake eyes, robe replaced by a dirty trench coat found in the ministry that is quite obviously a muggle 1920 antique, and as a finishing touch he has a fake mobile phone placed in his front pocket to make him fit in

“What do you know of Mr. Potter”.

The woman suddenly looks shamed in a way, she moves faster in jerky movements, and her heartbeat seems to have a small jump in frequency that corresponds with the same one in her breathing. She stands up, causing her char to ricket and creak loudly, but this also reveals her short stature. She walks over to the filing cabinet in the corner, grabbing the displaced file to drop in on the desk in front of Alastor. He flinches to his wand, then forfeits paranoia to just pick up the manilla folder and look inside, giving it a cursory glance before looking at her for an answer. She looks down again, and to me with a request in her eyes, but moves to talk.

“Harry was a -”she pauses for a moment to look up at the ceiling and contemplate her next move, “-quiet child”. She looks back up at Alastor to ask if it was enough, “He was often absent to school. He - uh - got into fights with other children, his cousin Dudley especially”

“When did you last see him?”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------Harry POV------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The things I notice more and more as this day goes on is disturbing to say the least, Marvolo disappeared shortly after having me send that letter even though he has no history of leaving my side for this long before, I have a habit of unconsciously traveling to my dark home whenever stressed even during conversations with miscellaneous people, and last but not least, the whole day something just hasn’t felt right. It's a gut feeling, that's just worrying, but most likely not going to result in anything other than nerve at talking to people. I don't know what this is, something like the pungency of a magical sensing version of wet dog, but no dogs have been around me, which is another oddly strange thing. 

I haven’t yet found the leaky cauldron or Diagon alley, the area around town has no such signs or magical signatures, a few times I thought I felt something but the feeling died down as soon as I got there. I hate this search, it's about as frustrating as trying to put a leash on your pet jello and take it for a walk, it seems like a fruitless endeavor to search for the well hidden. Perhaps, I should give up my search and just make a home for myself in the fringes of this physical and social world. But I can’t do that yet, I wouldn’t be able to return to how everything was before, Auntie is dead. I can still see her body rotting behind my eyelids, smell her screams, hear her emotions, feel her pain. Her body twitches in a dark mass covered in dark decaying bones, screaming a pleasant background frequency to hurt be, but she doesn’t know that it makes me regret less. She keeps muttering insults, but I pay them no mind to pay attention to the holes she tries to tear into my flesh, like its corporeal in a world of my mind, but she is just petting my magic ever so slightly. She forces her hurt and agony on me through the pliable membrane she is trapped in. It hurts. The blood from her corpse is going rancid in an accelerated move, roting and replacing itself at roughly the same pace so I have exactly the same amount of blood and decay that I can smell at any given time. 

The pain tugs at my bones.

\-------------------------------------------------Kingsley POV------------------------------------------------------

“He well, umm didn't go to summer school so I last saw him at the school back in June.” She moves to look up at Alastor again, but before she does she seems to completely stop and fixate at her hands fiddling with a pen she had in her pocket, “But I saw him nearly every day when I left my house.And I saw him a few nights ago” She seems to calm down, then fixate her vision on my eyes, tracking the movements, then gaining confidence to maintain eye contact with the more intimidating of the two. “He - Harry - was walking around the block after sunset, but before it was completely dark”

I decide to speak up, a question burning in my throat, “Miss Trishkala why was he outside every morning?”

“He was doing his chores every morning, nothing out of the ordinary officer.” Alastor looks up, then back down at the file. His blue eye is visible from this angle under the sunglasses whizzing around across the paper, scanning everything before he looks back up. He has his mouth pursed in deep thought, so I know I must act the next.

“Tell me all the details of these ‘chores’” Without full comprehension, and due to the body language Alastor is showing, this is still obviously one of the best questions to ask. This is most likely the reason they have auror apprentisments, so that they can learn all the proper detective reasoning that they never learned in school.

“I-uh.” She coughs in a way of breaking up her sentence and gaining vocal confidence, “I live across from his house on privet drive, so when I go outside I see the house. Every morning he was tending the garden, sometimes his cousin was near him while he did that. He would go inside after that, roughly 6-7 am or so. After the school day he sometimes tended the gardens s’more, but usually was inside. And-uh once when he was turning in his homework he apologized for not completing it. He” she takes in a somewhat medium breath of air, “said that he didn’t have time after his chores that night. The gardens were really nice, until a few days ago. I asked Mrs. Dursley about it a few months ago, and she said that it was Harry’s punishment for a bunch of delinquent things he did. I asked her cause it was one of our school breaks for winter, and he had been tending the garden all of the times I went outside that day”

It all clicks, I can see what Alastor is searching over his records for, something that the muggle system has notorious problems with. This would cause a scandal if it got out to the wizarding public. Including the fact that we’d already found incriminating evidence at the home, this is further additions to the now undeniable truth that knocks on the door of inevitability.  “How did Harry act based on what you saw?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley say he is a delinquent, and that he should be sent to a correctional facility when he gets older.”

“But what did you notice about the young boy?”

“He’s quiet, the only times when he does talk its to himself in the corner, or when Dudley talks to him at recess. His classmates don’t like him, they say he’s a freak and an outcast, some of the children say that their parents don’t allow them to talk to him If I remember correctly. He is absent to school a lot, gets late many of the days, doesn’t do his homework all of the time,doesn’t answer questions in class. But other than that he seems to be polite when he talks to me, and actually sorry when he breaks the school rules. Like the repeated violation of him refusing to wear his uniform every day of the school year. A-and another thing is that he always looks really creepy, his eyes just stare at you like a serial killer’s would. I don’t know if he tries to or not but that gaze makes me nervous.” She says this all at once, and runs out of breath by the end of this quickly and nervously said speech like exposition.

But as I try to go the more subtle route of investigation, Alastor is firm in is upfront blunt questioning. He jots something more on his paper, that has increased in the amount of time I was questioning, then speaks in a gruff tone.

“Have you any more actions of child abuse you know of” The muggle woman seems to open her eyes wider, bite her lip, and look down to her hands on her lap again.

“N-not that you already know officer, no. I-if it helps you can have a copy of his file, like if you need his info or s-something”

“That would be very helpful in this case Miss.”

“We have copies here, you can just keep the one I gave you earlier. I don- I want to help with whatever happened. Is this what you’re here about? Did something bad happen to Harry” I share a look with Alastor at this, but concede anyways to telling this woman the short details of what happened.

“We’re here because young Mr. Potter went missing recently”

“He was going towards the bridge when I last saw him.” Moody pulls out a map of the muggle town from his breast pocket, unfolds it, and places it infront of her. She looks down at it.

“Draw where he was, what direction he was going, and where his destination would’ve been.” Alastor smooths it out, and stares at her trying to be menacing. I give her a small smile to try to calm her. She takes a red felt tip pen from her desk, and draws as requested. Alastor picks up the map, and speeds out of the room.

“Sorry. I have to go now Miss, my -uh- partner wants me to follow him.” She gives a small smile.

  
  


\-------------

 

I catch up with Alastor in a few minutes, he is fast walking on a dark street of the school, staring at the map as he does so.

“Alastor!” His blue eye catches up to my movement before his true eye. When I get closer I speak quietly to try to reserve any sense of secrecy. “Did you learn anything.” He looks around quickly, then wordlessly and endlessly casts a silence spell.

“Constant vigilance Shacklebolt! You don’t know when somebody’s listening in on classified information.”

“She didn’t give us much new information.”

“The boy wasn’t kidnapped.” Then he turns around and stops talking as he laid that bombarda on me.

“Wait What!” Alastor doesn’t look back in my direction, only holding up his wand above his right shoulder so I can see it.

_ Alastor you have to tell me stuff! We are a team. _ I try to tell him this, but my tongue is too heavy to move on my own, the telltale effects of his favorite silence hex. I follow him in a bad mood after that.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------Harry POV------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Cmon Harr we’ve can’t search by just following people and hoping**

_ Then what do you propose Ankoku. Don’t just complain! Help! _

**I don’t know, why would I know! I have the same brain and senses you do. We are the same person no matter how much you deny.**

The man we are following is stopping to look at the ground again, and growl ever so slightly whenever he does. The whole time we’ve been here he has been pacing back and forth in front of this one area. He is far taller than we are, but too tall to be able to accurately guess. Ankoku said I should follow him an hour ago because he looks strange, and my gut feeling says there’s something off about this man. He is wearing what looks like a long black trench coat that is smooth and silky, with a fedora snug on his head, and a tux underneath. On his wrist is an old looking watch that has the grime and rust like it’s ancient, but it seems to work just fine, everything is seemingly well put together but he is clearly uncomfortable in this attire. His face is rugged but pale and covered in faint scratch like scars, a large whiskery beard and piercing blue eyes, and this gives him an all around feral look.

_ Something's up with that man _

**You’ve been saying that for the past hour. And you always forget that I respond the same every time you ask this. THIS IS WHY WE’RE FOLLOWING HIM. Because he is weird. If you think something is wrong with him lets just look in a different way. I’m bored so we should look in a more active method. Cmon ask people or something.**

_ We should calm down _

**Sorry**

He continues to look at the ground again and again, like he’s searching  for something. If I wasn’t standing in the shadows of night in a different I would think he saw me. He looks up at the sky now, so I do too, and see the light of the full moon from behind the horizon.

_ This is really weird _

**Must I yell at you again**

_ No. But like what do you think it is. _

**Seems like stereotypical werewolf to me Harr harr.** He laughs a cold laugh into my magic, so it bubbles around me like boiling pasta water  **Totally joking, but like he’s got the look ya know**

_ Stop teasing with me and actually help. Werewolves aren’t a thing. _

**Don’t be ungrateful.**

_ I don’t want our time wasted by random stories _

**Fiiiiiinnnee. But I'm right though, he even looks at the moon.**

The man takes a piece of what looks like regular printer paper out of his pocket with writing on the side facing away from me. He growls slightly more but this time it is a more exasperated growl, like a bark mixed in with a sigh, he looks up at the sky again and checks his watch.

**Look he even growls like a dog, got the whiskers to match with it too**

He turns around quickly while staring at the floor, letting me get a good look at the paper in his hand. The writing is the same as the letter I wrote for Marvolo a few days ago. It’s even got the same code. It’s an exact copy.

**This is the perfect opportunity to ask him. Take action! Marvolo could’ve sent him to help us without us knowing or something. He’s probably magical. Maybe he’s looking at the ground for us.**

_ I don’t know Ankoku. Marvolo didn’t want to help us very much earlier _

**Yeah but we should ask him anyways. I want to find magic Harr.**

_ Ok I guess _

I walk behind the nearest trash can so nobody can see us, and quickly transition into the world that takes my breath away, not in a wonder way but in a suffocation way. After I finish coughing I stand up to walk near the man. His scan of the floor brings his eyes to my feet, causing him to look up at me. His eyes are far more piercing and terrifying in the flesh, and his mouth curls into a new position that I cannot tell the meaning of.

“What-” His voice is very gruff and gravely, sounding like he spends all his time screaming instead of speaking”-s your name kid.” His voice is so surprising that I almost forget to speak back and give a reply.

“My name is Harry Potter” His lips curl into a feral smile, his teeth are filed down into very sharp points that look like they can tear through any organic material. He grabs my arm with sharp claw like fingers and drags me through the door of this odd building, with nothing acknowledging me but what sounds like it could be a gruff “follow me”.

“Do you know Marvolo?”

He doesn’t respond. Ankoku stays very silent.

When we walk through the door my senses are overwhelmed with magic, causing my mind to be overstimulated and notice nothing more as we walk. I barely remember the journey as he walks us down into a darker part of the magical area, a secluded and silent spot. He checks his watch again and laughs.

“Did Mar-” Before I finish the sentence he releases the grip on my arm, replacing it with a grip on my throat that pins me to the wall with an incredibly large amount of force.The sharp points of his claws draw small beads of blood that I can feel running down my neck. I writhe in his grasp but it only causes more blood to fall. My attempt to escape by running to the door of the realm fails as I attempt that in his grasp as well.

_ Am I going to die? Ankoku why can’t I travel to the other world. _

Ankoku stays silent

The strange man laughs a rough laugh after he looks back at his watch, “1 minute. I finally get to kill the Potter brat nobody stops talking about.” He locks eyes with mine, “Nobody gets to kill my lord but me!”.

“Please! Let me go!” I’m crying now but my magic doesn't do anything to save me.

He looks back at me with a growl, “When.’ He digs his talons farther into my neck,. “Did.” his force starts drawing trickles of blood that runs down my neck warm. “I” He starts to move his claws slowly down deeper into my neck, much to my agony. “Say.” He brings his other hand up to steady my neck. “You” he growls into my left ear. “Could” He digs his other talons in. “TALK” he tears through the skin of my neck, from right below my head to my collar bone on the right side of my face. It gushes blood in such fervor that I start to feel woozy. This leaves 5 deep gashes. He licks some of the blood from the wound, causing my heart to further stop.

He stands back to admire his handiwork, then looks up at the sky. “The moon has arrived” He smiles with a feral grin at me. His face starts to meld into one of a horrifyingly large wolf, and without his restraining tough I bolt.

**Ha I was right**

_ Not the time Ankoku! _

My feet carry me in desperate fervor across the pawed stone roads in the secluded alleyway, it is lines with stores but everything is still empty. In my adrenaline rush I can barely feel the dizzying wound, but it stains my front bloody, It chokes me when I try to breath in deeply. I can hear the howl coming from behind me, the scramble of tile, the horrible magical rot. I take a sharp turn in the direction of what sounds like people, but I hear the scramble of claws rapidly approaching.

I turn towards the entrance to this bright magical utopia, but not close enough. The thing ponces on my back, knocking me and my breath, blood and life down to the ground. I should’ve never thought I could outrun him when I had a bleeding neck wound..

I am close enough to smell his bloody breath, to see the stain on each tooth, to see the details of his wild eyes, to count his heirs. Each of his creature limbs pin my ever smaller body to the ground of a short second as he catches his breath. I try to scream but all that comes out is a bloody gurgle.

_I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is  going to die_** _. I am going to die. He is going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is  going to die_** _._ ** _He is going to die_** _. He is going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _I am going to die. He is going to die He is going to die  I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die_** _He is going to die._ ** _He is going to die. He is going to die._** _I am going to die._ ** _He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_** **_He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_**

**_He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_ **

**_He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_ **

**_He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_ **

**_He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_ **

**_He is going to die. He is going to die He is going to die. He is going to die_ **

  
  


**_He is going to die._ **

_ He is going to die _

Right before my eyes fade into unconsciousness, right before his bite goes into my throat, right before my certain death, the world flashes a bright acidic green of my eyes. As my eyes close I see the lifeless body of the wolf man blasted a few feet away from me.

I fade into bliss tainted with the blood of my throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please if anyone wants any new chapter, or had any request, I ill try my best to fulfill it. If anyone wants fan chosen POV characters I still want suggestions. Please comment I read every one of the comments. Please tell me if you all like longer chapters or more frequent chapters.


	10. Dreams are like reality as a painting is to my soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for procrastinating so long at this chapter. Hope that the new major divergences from the regular story are good.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------Lily POV----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes refuse to open for the first time since my body was stolen, everything feels heavy and I have too little motivation to do anything about it. Everything is calm, as it should be, I want to slip back into the bliss of my wonderful unconscious sleep to let my mind rest in wonder of nothingness and the void that all magic is created.

“She is aware”

“I know that Kor”

These voices that I hear are strangely feminine, like the sing song voice of Alice back before our puberty, but with a hint more hummingbird and a hint less tinney reality. My eyes grow ever heavier, morpheus threatening to grapple me back whether I want to or not.

“Is she staying with us Kie? Like she seems too”

“Human? I really don't know Kor, she’s a bit … ”

The second voice -Kie- pauses for a unit of time unknown but uncomfortable.

“... Whispy”

The first voice has more the tone of Tuney before I went to Hogwarts, but far more violet delicacy, but keeping the sense of innocence and childishness that Tuney had. If I were to guess I would say that Kor was a younger girl, maybe at the most 11 or 12 years old, and most definitely at some sort of lower power, control, or magic than the second voice. The second voice is very similar to the one Alice had in her youth, a harmonic voice that when singing sounds like the angels singing the gods a lullaby. Kie sounds like a slightly older girl, perhaps around mid teenagehood, so 14 to 15 roughly, she seems to be far more mature than her age though, and definitely either a mentor or leader of Kor.

_ I’m supposed to be doing something right now, but I don’t know what _

“Why’d we fetch her anyways? She’s weird and I don’t want to be round her Kie. Look” It pauses for air, “She’s all dead lookin. Are you sure she isn’t gonna kill us or something with her ancient demonic powers stolen from the clutches of a primordial god at the corner of the universe at 4:52:321847 am? Please Kie I’m afraid, she’s scowling at us, and boss said she’s gt more power than boss had at that age, boss is already mean enough. I don't want another one”

“Why did I take you on this mission again.”

“You need my wonderful, beautiful, darling face to flirt with all of our suspects?”

“To all of tarnations covered in the souls of my enemies, No. Your flirting is as nasty as a hell pool and twice as thick”

“I am a useful teammate”

“If I wanted a useful teammate I would've asked Jreen”

“I said I’d be braver”

“So be braver”

Kor is most definitely younger, although I might need to rethink my estimates to account for the fact that Kor is obviously old enough to flirt without it being seen as wrong. I want to stand up, I want to figure out what I need to be doing, I want to talk to these odd people, and all of those wishes are being granted, but slower than I‘d hope even on a desperate day, the iron haze that's draped over my cognitive abilities is being slowly lifted one millimeter at a time. I want to know why they’re saying these things about me, the worst things that people say about me is that I’m not a pure blood, not that I’m ugly, or look dead, or that I apparently look wispy. 

_ What’s happened to me? _

Around me I feel the sheets common for a bed in the dorms, cold and somewhat scratchy. Sleeping seems so very appealing, though I need to figure out where I am.

_ Where am I, the last thing that I remember is …. Is? I can’t tell what I had just been doing, everything is so so fuzzy. Remember everything about what magical memory charms are, this is what a poorly done obliviate feels like according to the defense textbook. What did they erase! How old am I? DO I have a family still?  _

My eyes blink open for just a second, and suddenly two faces appear in my vision. Strangely blue, and very close to my own face.

“Morning Lilian.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------- Harry POV----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They don’t notice I have woken yet, though they flap around me. The doves are checking people’s bandages, one on a man who looks as if he just turned a crocodile into a woodchipper, carefully tended and sharpened each and every single tooth, even adding in a few teeth extra from his friend the vampire, then jumped in like there was no tomorrow.

_ And he’s correct. These wounds ooze more blood than makes up my entire body in the span of a few hours. They should just drug him so he can live the last few hours in peace. _

The doves sing their pretty songs, chirping around quickly and some louder than others. Their words mean naught more than sounds to me when my hearing is encompassed by this painful ringing, it hurts to even think of listening although I can still hear. A male dove checks over to me, making sure I have a pulse before checking my face quickly. He does a double take when he sees my face. I try to listen to him when he starts talking.

“Good morning, anything hurt?”

I nod furiously, and point to my ears. He tuts, and pulls out a stick from a weird sheath on his belt, pointing it at my ears while muttering something in a foreign language. My ears instantly feel far better.

_ Is this a wizard? _

“You went through a lot yesterday young one, didn’t ya?” He smiles slightly at me, though the real smile is in his beautiful coppery brown eyes.

I nod

The dove grabs something from a cabinet beside my cot, then puts it in my hands. “Chocolate might not heal ya, but it’ll sure make you feel better.”

I unwrap the chocolate bar and place some in my mouth, it melts flooding my tongue with a sweet flavor. 

“I am your mediwizard for the rest of your stay here at St. Mungos, my name is Artrai Williams. What is your name?”

**Don’t tell him Harr**

_ What do you mean Ankoku _

**It’s dangerous**

_ Stop joking around! _

**I’m not joking**

“Don’t worry about responding quickly, just take your time ok? You’re throat might feel a bit sore, but it’s healed.” I reach out to touch my neck, and instead of smooth skin feel 5 deep scars from where I was scratched last night. I feel like I desperately should react, but now can’t tell if I’m in shock or genuinely don't care. Emotion bubbles up, but not at the wound itself, but how it was gained.

_ This is all your fault. _

**I tried to tell you he was a werewolf! But noooooooooo you didn’t listen. What do you expect me to do, possess you and walk you away from the danger.**

_ You could’ve fought him off with magic instead of letting me nearly DIE! You don’t care about my life at all, do you! You didn’t even care when it was trying to kill me! _

**I-I do care**

_ You don’t care. _

**We can’t tell him our name Harr**

_ Why should I trust you. Why are you doing this. What's the danger. If you can possibly answer those then I'll listen to you. _

**One, I’m in this body too so I don’t want to die either. Two, I'm scared of us getting attacked again, It's not like I'm an immortal god and you know this Harr. Three, wolfy attacked us when you told him your name, so you must be in danger.**

_ Oh. Oh. Ok Ankoku. What should I do instead then. _

**Fake name**

_ What do I choose? _

**Harry is a common name, so we won’t change that, you’ll just forget it, maybe we can give ourself a full name like Hadrian or something. Mom’s last name before she married dad was Evans wasn’t it? Don’t answer that I already know it. We can take that.**

_ Ok, that sounds like a good plan. _

“Sir?” He looks back at me, “M-My name is Hadrian Evans”

“Thank you Mr Evans, May I ask what is your middle name?”

“ **Ankoku** ”

**Sorry. Just Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaad to leave my name in ours, can’t have you forgetting we’re one person.**

_ Can you just not _

“Your father stopped by, and he said he knows you're here.”

“My father?”

_ What Father? _

**Stop asking me stupid questions, how would I know more than you do? Hmm?**

_ I swear. I will not regret exorcising myself. _

**Good luck exorcising me when were the same person! Solid skull.**

“Yes, your father said you can leave once you are healed.”

_ Seems a bit suspicious _

I nod confusedly

**Anyways, you know what they say.**

_ I don’t _

**Don’t look at horse teeth**

_ S-not the saying _

**We get to leave, don’t question it**

“And you’re healed, so if you want you can go.” He moves to leave, then as he walks away continues, “But please, if just for me, don’t stray back into knockturn alley, you got attacked by a werewolf last time you were there.”

**I’ll make sure to write that down mr. doctor man!**

My clothes are still on, so I just stand up and walk away through this strange location, the coolness tarnished by how Ankoku is humming loudly. Tall strange looking people skutter around, while others who look more like the royalty from picture books slink around like cats. Two women sit on a bench together, holding hands as if that’ll protect them from the attack of an angry black hole. A silvery man leads a boy around my age through the crowd, walking like a fair, though his son seems to act just like a kinda odd posh person. Unnerving sights greet me from the shadows of this waiting room, this odd feeling is magnified by the odd part of me muttering that they may not be real, just figments of my mind. A teenager sobs in the corner next to a pretty potted plant with red flowers. An old woman stands still, when I pass her I do a double take to notice that she is closing her eyes and mouth. When I direct my vision towards her she opens her mouth, for it to be a massive eye that looks similar to my own flickering and darting between all the objects in the room. Her eye rests its vision on my forehead scar, then backs up farther into the shadows of this hallway. A pretty woman with nice green eyes and floating red hair hovers a foot above the ground in the corner of my vision.

I shake my head and the room is entirely bright.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------Lily POV----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ He could see me! _

“Wasn’t that what I said I could do?”

_ I … didn’t say anything? _

“You did not”

_ You can hear my thoughts? _

“Why, yes. But do not worry, I have no intention of taking information.”

_ Is she really a god? _

“Yes I am, red wraith”

_ Why me? _

“Are you not grateful? Your feat of magic hold my attention, the deal is the product of that interest.”

The world reforms around me, placing me standing up in a large comfy room, covered in everything soft that the mind can comprehend. The floor ordained with large rugs and furs that cause the floor to sink under my feet as I walk, pillows scatter across every surface, blankets cover the chairs, and layer the bed many times over. The bed itself is enormous, dwarfing all other beds, with large white sheets and giant puffy blue drapes. The room is themed around a white and soft pastel blue aesthetic, similar to the sky in a nice temperate sunny day. In the corner is a hearth similar to that of the Gryffindor common room, emitting a calming warmth. The chandelier of soft fabrics is charmed in some way to emit a soft lullaby at all times. Many large chairs sit in the fringes of the room, and seated is the one with a gods ego.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why I’d want to have some power over dreams.” The ego raises an eyebrow, but I continue. “I know you want to tempt me into spending time with my son in his dreams-” the woman looks amused “-but I'd much rather just be able to do what you gave me earlier, him able to see me in his waking hours. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for your offer. But, I’d rather be with my son more. And power corrupts us foolish mortals, It’d be a bad idea.”

“I’d rather you refer to me by my name, even if only in your mind, the name is Geth, mistress of bad dreams. Anyways, I’m not just offering you charity, you must earn whatever you are given.” She walks up to where I’m standing on the carpets, pressing her cold hand to my heart.

“Give”

_ My arms wrap around the small child in my arms, he is delicate and wonderful. _

_ ‘Have fun sweetie’ _

_ ‘I’ll miss you at Hogwarts mum’ _

_ ‘Don’t worry, you’ll forget all about missing me soon Harry’ _

_ His black hair disappears into the doors of the Hogwarts express, flanked by small children in all directions. _

“Take”

_ Two men stand far away from her in the rain, neither can see her prone and sobbing corpse. _

_ They share the same striking black hair and pale skin, but the shorter looks up with bright green eyes, while the taller looks down with eyes of blood red. _

_ She strains to hear what they say, but makes out the last bit of a long winded monologue from the red one. _

_ ‘We’ll be great together you know’ _

_ Red holds out his hand to the shorter, and smiles like a vampire does at their next meal. _

‘I do know’

The green takes to hand of the red, and grins.

“See? Nothing is for free, you must have balance, pay for what you buy. I need a new mistress of good dreams at my side, this is not a gift.”

“What if I refuse? What if I don’t pay up?” I stand up, and make my way for the door at the far end of the room.

“It wouldn’t be too difficult to take your missing payments from your son.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------- Harry POV----------------------------------------------------------------------------

My pockets are strangely filled with a handful of heavy gold coins, and a note

Young Mr. Evans

Go to the large white building “Gringotts” , and ask for a heritage test. The gold coins are just enough to pay for it. Don’t waste this.

  * Your “Father”



_ Won’t look a gift horse in the mouth I guess, why not? _

**Jeez Harry. You make me feel like you don’t trust me! Following a random not and not trusting yourself. Deplorable.**

So many people are in this alley at one time, that I don’t even know why this is supposed to be enjoyable. All of the fun that this could possibly give is stolen by the suffocating feeling of being drowned out of mind. Each person could possibly be a threat, and not one of the massive volumes of sentience seems to realize or consider that. It has the same sort of feeling as your soul being scrutinized by a bunch of judgmental guinea pigs at all times of day, irking me. We pass street vendors selling things, Ankoku comments on how he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t look too complicated so it’s definitely a scam.

The giant white building, marked with the sign of “Gringotts” stands at the end of the windy alley, each step of my short stride brings me ever closer. My mind is not focused on the walking, but on dedicatedly and rigorously trying to prevent my cornered and anxious mind from stepping back into the home of the shadow realm. On the doors is an engraved poem, that I stop just long enough to read.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

**Sounds like a challenge, don’tya think sa?**

Inside the great building is a golden theme, on small stands sit these short wrinkly gnome like creatures with beady eyes. I walk up to the nearest empty podium.

“Excuse me sir, can I get a heritage test?” I ask this on my tip toes so that the being can see me. I note that the stand on his desk is labeled with the name Griphook.

“It will cost seven galleons.” I pick the coins out of my pocket to count them -exactly 7- and place them on Griphook’s desk.

Griphook gets off of his podium, and walks me to a back room. I am sat at a dark wooden table, with a parchment and quill placed in front of me.

“Write your full name here”

I scribble my name down on the paper, a slight sting on the back of my hand. The ink from the quill bleeds down to the rest of the paper to form words and documentation.

**Gringotts official blood test results**

**Close Relatives**

 

**Name: Hadrian “Harry” James Potter**

**Mother: Lily Potter née Evans**

**Father: James Potter**

**Godparent(s): Sirius Black**

 

**Houses/Heirships/Lordships**

 

**Heir [Lord once age 17] to the Great and Noble house of Potter - {425,258,748,582 galleons}**

 

**Heir to the Fearsome Noble house of Black - {57,698,146,871,239 galleons}**

 

**Heir [Lord once age 17] to the Undead house of Peverell - {249,868,274 galleons}**

 

“Well Mr. Potter, you are quite the valuable client here” Said with a toothy smile and lack of care.

_ This must be why people want to kill me _

**Well duh. Maybe we should pretend to not be ourselves.**

_ Aren’t we already doing that? _

**We’re in real danger, we should try a bit harder. Do you think whoever wants to kill us for our money is just going to stop after a single attempt? No. Have more brains than a pregnant cat.**

_ I could change my name, like legally! Also, why would it make any difference if the cat was pregnant? _

**Good idea. Don’t sweat the details. We should also never mention who we are.**

_ Solid plan. I’d rather not die. So no extravagant purchases? _

**Yup**

“Sir Griphook, I would like to legally change my name” The man looks at me strangely.

“We can do that, your true name on official Gringotts blood tests would show up anyways though”

“That is absolutely splendid. Charge the Potter account for any of these expenses”

“Agreed, on this piece of paper sign and confirm your new name.”Griphook places a piece of formal looking paper in front of me, the only words on it, ‘My official legal name on all documents is:’

  
  


Hadrian Ankoku Evans

  
  


_ And with thus, Harry’s name permanently changed. Changing many documents, including the name in the book of acceptance at Hogwarts. _

  
  



	11. A missing child?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment if you have anything you want to say at all! And please tell me if you have a preference between having the story go slower, or speeding up so that hogwarts comes sooner.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Dumbledore POV--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Everything will work out in the end Minerva, nothing we can do about it now” A bit of magic puts a twinkle in my eye. Nothing is alright at the moment, but worrying will do nothing to change it. Worrying can’t bring the dead back to life after all.

Minerva looks up to me with stern betrayal in the whites of her eyes, but not moving a muscle. Severus looks down at the floor in a grim acceptance.  Fillius rapidly flips through the pages of the book of acceptance, disbelieving the results. Pomona stands, calming down Minerva.

“Merlin Albus. We let another child die without doing anything to stop it. We have to take action to save the vulnerable, or something,” She flips to the 1991 page in the acceptance book, and breathes in, “like this will happen again. The top name, Harry Potter on the list is crossed out in red ink.

“We did everything we could Minerva. Sometimes accidents happen, sometimes things even us can’t help. The Aurors tried all they could, I’m sure of that”

“We shouldn’t of just stood there and let them fail.”

_ Severus looks the most sad out of all of them. But he won't admit it. Poor boy _

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Geth POV -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did.” Inhale.

“You.” Exhale

“Just.”  Calm won’t arrive.

“Threaten.” Increase in volume

“MY.” Growl mixes with the voice.

“SON!” She screams this out in a growl. 

The distraught, and stupidly impulsive mortal lunges at me, but a small movement of my hand has her pressed to the ground with heavily increased gravity. She tries to push her body up from the floor. 

A colder voice than I mean escapes me, “Ooooo the spirit. What do they call this back in life.” I stand up, and focus my gaze upon the prone form “ How.” I pause for a moment, to irritate her slightly more, “Gryffindor.” The red wraith struggles for a moment on the floor.

_ It's too easy. Mortals are all bark and no bite, but they do deliciously scream under my possession. _

I walk over to the beast, it growls as a beast does. I crouch down so my face is near hers, pressing my cheek into the plush carpet. I smile, and it flinches

“Mortals can't bear the ire of gods, can’t they. You better just..” She scratches my face down to the bone, and before she can pull her hand away, my magic hucks her to the far wall. The nightmares press around me, clotting the blood and encouraging the new tissue to grow at an accelerated rate.

The woman smiles, as she hocks up a wad of bloody spit onto my carpet.

“I’m no puuuuunnnnnnyyyy mortal” She stretches out the puny in a sarcastic mocking way, then looks down at her toes, “trust me, I've tried”. She stands silent for a while. When Istep aside to look at my face in the mirror on the wall, thrashing is heard from that side in the room. A nasty red mark is left on my right cheek, but only as much as it one was superficially scratched by a gentler beast. Clearly this one is no such gentler beast.

“That won’t work, red wraith.”

“But I won’t give up either, false god.”

“My name is Geth, refer to me as such puny one.”

“MY name is Lily, refer to me as such,  _ Geth _ ”

_ No matter how annoying, she is the only one with the spirit that her … predecessor had. _

“Welll  _ Lily _ do you accept your position”

She breaks a stupid grin, “Don’t have a choice, do I? But I will.”

“You have my dearest thanks Lillian” She pulls a face at the name, “Do you wish for a reward?”

“I-ll tell you when I know what I want”

“Now you will be civil Lillian,” I let her out of the dream world, and we stand in a white plane, I walk over to her pushing herself up off the ground. A ring is produced from my pocket, and given to her.

She places the ring on her finger, and explodes with a bright white light.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cedric POV ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dad! We should go get ice cream. You said Diagon alley has the best ice cream”

Dad looks down at me, and ruffles my hair. I throw the ‘I’m not a baby anymore’ pout at him, and he just chuckles. “ Don’t worry my boy, Just wait out here as I stop by Gringotts some spending money. I’ll be right back”.

He goes, leaving me to twiddle my thumbs outside the bank. Least it’s less boring than the Wizengamot meetings he has me sit in on. Could he seriously not do this on the day he brings me to Diagon Alley. I look around for people to talk to, but the crowd is full of adults, and I’m not allowed to leave the patio/entrance of Gringotts.

I think the twins are here, with Percy who’s buying school supplies, but I can’t see the red heads of the Weasley clan anywhere.

-

This is so boring, I want to talk to someone, anyone, even a little kid like Luna.

 

-

 

Not even the Malfoys are here. Why isn’t there anyone to talk to.

 

-

 

BORING

 

-

 

I should be less bored, Dad says that proper Diggory men have better sense than be bored at anything, even the most boring things, like a lecture hall or shopping trip.

 

-

 

A little boy dressed in strange - probably muggle- over sized clothing walks out of Gringotts, and because I said I’ll try to talk to anyone, I try to get his attention.“Hi! My name is Cedric, but you can call me Ced. What's your name?” The boy looks at me with strangely green eyes, and a nasty looking neck scar of 5 ragged lines, I forget to breathe at the sight of it for a moment, but then remember my manners. Nobody deserves to be gawked at.

“My name is Hadrian P-Evans” He turns a bit red at the stumble of words, “But- you can just call me Harry” He smiles at me. I smile back.

_ Don’t ask about the neck scar _

“Nice to meet you Harry! My dad left me out here to wait for him, and I’ve been just dying to talk to somebody.”

Harry is really quiet, then nods.

“I’m here for my dad’s shopping trip.” He looks pretty young, but it can’t hurt to ask him about Hogwarts, “Are you here for Hogwarts?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you also too young for Hogwarts? How old are you? I’m nine turned so last October, so I’m almost ten.”

“‘m seven, you don’t have to talk to a little kid like me just to be nice.”

“Nonsense, seven isn’t so different than nine. We can even owl each other if you want to.”

“Oh-k?” He doesn’t look so sure about it, but no reason to dwell on a bit of uncertainty. I should try to get him to talk more, like in the etiquette lessons mom gives me, you must have a conversation to make friends.

“Have you had any accidental magic yet? Last week I accidentally turned all the oranges in our orange tree purple. But it was totally an accident, trust me Harry.” I wink, causing him to chuckle and lighten up a bit.

“Uhh, I accidentally turned my teacher's hair blue back in may.” I smile a bit, and Harry looks a bit happier.

“That's so cool!”

He turns a bit embarrassed, and starts to mumble, “It's nothing much, you turned oranges purple. Why did you though?” I fake surprise at the accusation, but my attempt cracks so I end up chuckling before I keep up a serious face.

“I’m shocked, accusing little ol' me of turning fruits a wonderful royal purple to mess with my mum? I would never” Harry looks a lot happier now.

“Cedric, can I ask you something?”

“Of course!” I blurt back, and almost forget to correct the name, “But call me Ced, I'm not some posh pureblood.”

“Ok Cedr-Ced, Who is Harry Potter?” Harry looks directly into my soul, and his eyes seem so bright and pleading, that I can’t refuse his small question. It unnerves me, but to show that would be rude.

“You don't know who Harry Potter is?!” I say in faked enthusiasm, “He killed,” I lean in to whisper into his ear, “You-know-who” I step back, “When he was just a baby. He’s one of the most famous people in the world. The prophet calls him the boy-who-lives.”

“Huh. That's why I heard someone talking about him” He spaces out in my general direction, eyes fogging over dark slightly.

A hand clasps on my shoulder, I look up to see my dad, “Come on Ced, we have to go meet back up with your mother.” He ruffles my hair again, and throws a weird look at Harry.

“Bye Harry! I’ll owl you!” I yell back at him, as I follow my Dad back down the alley. I watch Harry recede as I walk into the crowd.

“My My, Cedric, was that Harry Potter? Friends with a celebrity already, that’s my boy.” My dad looks down at me with pride.

“No dad, it was just Hadrian Evans.”

“Oh, that's ok. Good that you’re making such fast friends.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Harry POV-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re a bit young for Hogwarts dear.” The woman says, -Madame Malkin if the sign is evident- and I just nod, “ Well we’ll fit you all the like anyways. Stand on the stool”

I walk over to stand on one of the stools, and a measuring tape flies around my standing body. Madame twists her face in concentration, flicking a wand to hold different colors and textures of cloth up to my body. She holds a few on her left arm to keep for later.

Madame’s question shakes me out of a haze, “What do you want dear?” 

I stop to consider what I personally want, what would make me stand out less, and what I could buy with only 40 galleons and 200 pounds.

**We look stunning in black. How bout I pick one set, you pick another? Deal?**

_ Sure, If we can even afford that much. _

**But isn’t 40 galleons like 280 muggle pounds? Tats definitely enough to buy two sets of clothing.**

_ Yeah but Auntie said that it was too expensive to buy  _

**I would send that woman straight back to hell if I hadn’t already done it Harr.**

_ You don’t have to _

**How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t do this because I have to?**

I speak up, stopping my conversation with Ankoku, to the woman in front of me. “Excuse m-me? How much does an outfit cost?”

The woman looks softly at me, “5 galleons per outfit, which includes trousers, a shirt, and color of outer robe. An extra 2 galleons if you want resizing, and cleaning charms. A set of socks costs 1 galleon, and the same for a set of underwear. You can but a pair of shoes for 2 galleons, and a set of pajamas for 3 galleons.”

“Can I have a set of underwear, a set of socks, a pair of shoes, and two outfits with the charms, one with a light blue robe, and one with a  **royal purple** outer robe?” I grab the galleons out of my pocket, counting out 18 heavy gold coins.

“Of course dearie!” She hovers a few things into a bag, handing it to me. “That’ll be 18 galleons.” I hand her the money, and grab the bag. The bag is placed into the backpack that’s bigger on the inside that I picked up earlier.

I have 22 of the 50 galleons that I started with left over, and that thought unsettles me just a little, though the weight of my first few possessions calms the anxiety in my mind. I duck into the bathroom of the leaky cauldron to change my clothes into something more reminiscent of a wizard, picking the light blue robe to wear first.

I pull out the picture of Harry Potter I grabbed. Most people asked seem to recognize the scar most of all, then the hair and eyes. The eyes can’t be helped, and the hair is already non reminiscent of my parents perhaps longer will look less like it, but the scar could be covered.

**Finally got a brain on that neck stump. Cmon just cast the magic so we can go to sleep. I’m soooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_ I - _

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_ I don- _

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_ Hmph _

**Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo tired. What were you saying Harr?**

_ I don’t know how to do that. _

**Well then can we just go to sleep?**

_ Sure _

I sink myself back into the realm of shadows, letting the fall comfort me, losing feeling of all around me, sleeping in limbo. Losing myself to sleep faster than what should be possible, suspiciously fast.

  
  
  
  
  


_ My eyes open to a soft looking dream world, in a park that's near to the Dursleys house. Birds are chirping, the sky is bright and softly warm, the breeze is giving a comfortable cool. It is completely and utterly relaxing to say the least.  _

_ My eyes blink open, trying to fight off the drowsy calmness that the environment causes, It's warm and even though I want to go back to sleep, I need to stay awake. The playground is unusually vibrant, and the swing is occupied by a boy around my age with black hair.. _

_ I stand up on the hilly surface, feeling that I am still in the robes that I went to sleep in. Next to me is a boy that looks exactly like me, though he has dark eyes with no iris. He is wearing the purple robes that Ankoku picked out for himself earlier today.  _

**_Its me Harr_ **

_ “As if it wasn’t obvious” I smirk, to hide my inner confusion at seeing Ankoku for the first time. He sees through my mask to my slight anxiety, so he reaches out to hold my hand, coating us both with a thin cloak of comforting darkness. I smile a small thanks to him, so he returns it. _

_ A tall woman with red hair in what looks like a white gown walks over to the little boy. Ankoku and I walk over too, interested in what is happening, and what is being said. _

_ “Hi Harry, it’s your mother.” She says this kneeling down next to the boy on the swing, with a softness in her voice. The boy stirs in the swing, and I try to crane my neck over to see the lady’s face, but it is blocked by the boy. _

_ “M-mom?” The boy says in a softer voice, tears laced in the words. _

_ “Yes Harry. It’s me, mom. Dad and I love you so so much, even though we never got to tell you little one.” The woman stands up to hug her son. _

_ I catch a small glimpse of the face of the woman, it matches exactly what I saw on the pages about Lily Potter, about my Mom. I look closer at the boy she is holding. He has my frame, he is wearing the castoffs that I abandoned right before sleeping. _

_ “Why did you have to  leave me mum! I miss you.” The boy sobs into the shoulders of the woman, who just puts her head in his hair and makes comforting noises. _

_ “I'm sorry, Your dad and I were killed by a very bad wizard. But I’ll always love you sweetie, because you’re so wonderful, so good, so perfect.” She smooths down his hair as he sobs. _

_ Ankoku looks at me, and squeezes my hand a bit harder to comfort. _

_ “I’m scared Mom.” He takes his head out of her shoulder to look at her, and she looks back at him, with soft green eyes. _

_ “What of little lion? I can protect you from anything here. I will help you with anything you want. Don’t worry, I can protect you” She brushes hair out of his eyes. _

_ “I’m scared that I’ll be like them.” He turns around sharply, staring us directly in the eyes. The boy is my exact copy, and the woman my mom. My mom puts her hands on the mirror’s shoulders, and looks at us with anger. Ankoku squeezes my hand even more. I can see what they see from the younger’s mind, a pair of wizards surrounded by darkness, that look separated and inhuman from reality at large. They see the grass curling away from our feet, perhaps they even see the deeds we’ve committed, the death of Petunia Evans Dursley on our hands.  _

_ “Don’t worry my lion, you’ll never be like them. They are evil, they are dark, they are horrible people, just like Voldemort. Nothing will change your wonderful, pure heart, and I know that honey. You are who you choose to be, and because you choose not to be like those baby death eaters means that you never will. There will always be broken misguided people like that, but you know that they choose the darkness, so you will never be them.” The boy infront of her seems to appear static with the rest of the world, but my eyes fixate on him and his stupid faked sadness, to see that his eyes were slowly becoming less green, his hair was becomming more brown, and his face was forming into one that looked more like my father’s did. Bruises that have already faded on my body slowly become more apparent on his. A small aura of light appears surrounding his form, seemingly to contrast mine. _

_ “Thank you, Mom” He looks back up at her with tears in his eyes, and she embraces him. My eyes fill with unwanted tears from the sting of being hated by a mother you love. I reach out for her, while my feet are rooted to the ground, but Ankoku grabs my arm and holds me next to him tightly. _

**_Harr, you don’t believe her, right?_ **

_ “We are who we choose to be. And I choose wrong.” _

**_Harr this is just a dream, nothing she says is what a true mother would say.  You see the boy right over there?_ ** _ I nod,  _ **_This is fake, this is who you would’ve been if you never left those awful, abusive people._ ** _ He turns me to look at him,  _ **_But this is not who we are, we are free, we are not him. We are better than he will ever be. Do you hear me Harr?_ **

_ Ankoku grabs me as I cry into his arms, a strange mirroring of what the woman did to our copy, but I clutch him tight. When the hug is broken, Ankoku just smiles and continues to hold my hand, as we go back to watching what the scene has been unfolding as. _

_ A woman with long white hair, and blue robotic eyes appears behind the woman, smirking. She says something that I can’t hear, but it causes the woman to have a true look of shock. The woman looks as if she thinks she made a horrible mistake, leaves the mirror, and tries to rush towards us. Ankoku pulls me away from her advances, ending the dream. _


	12. Time Skip-Harry goes to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry if any of you didn't want a time skip, but I wanted to progress the story faster and get it to Hogwarts where hopefully it'll be a lot more interesting, I'm sorry that I haven't posted for awhile, but trust me I read and care about all of your comments so please continue! I still love it when people suggest characters they want to hear about.

\--------------------------- Minerva POV   July 28 1991 --------------------------------------------------

“Albus, come over here and look at this.” The next letter of the muggle born pile has arrived in my hands, written in an elegant green ink and stamped with the hogwarts seal. Another letter for another muggleborn is a strictly protocall process, but I feel the urge to ignore my protocol with this one.

“Minerva, what is it. Do you want me to go on this muggleborn call?” He walks over to me slowly, and looks at me calm and kind.

“This letter is addressed to knockturn alley.” I hand him the front of the letter so he can witness the strangeness as well.

 

_Mr. H Evans,_ _Attic Room of the Snake Den_ _Knockturn Alley_

“This” He pauses and puts on his spectacles, “is mighty unusual Minerva.”

“What do you suppose we do Albus? Mr Evans must already know of the magical world. Knockturn Alley is no place for a young boy.” Albus stands up and walks over to a corner of the room.

“Since there is no harm in it Minerva, I say we go visit Mr Evans ourselves. He still is a muggleborn anyways, and will want to ask questions.”

“I-sn’t the Snake den a bar Albus?”

“ Even more reason to go. Now, lets go” Albus walks closer to the Floo, disappearing with a muttered ‘Knockturn Alley’”

I quickly follow.

\--

We walk to the Snake den through a pathway of Knockturn Alley that gives me serious chills, the floor is caked with the darkest of magics, and a dark dusty ash. I shrug the outer coat closer to myself to clear the way of bone chilling cold. I look over to see Albus walking as if he is oblivious to the strange atmosphere. 

The outer entrance to the snake den is an old looking stone building with metal snake handle doors, and the dead husks of living snakes nailed to the outer door of the establishment. Albus looks as if he is shaking something off before politely knocking on the slab of a metal door. Nobody answers.

“Are you sure this is the right place Albus? I can’t imagine a child living here, in a place so...” I gesture around myself to convey my meaning.

“The brightest of lights can be found in the darkest of places.”

“Albus, that isn-” The door opens, interrupting my speech and train of thought. The person inside is a young boy with a somber air, he is short, with thick silky black hair that frames his face and goes halfway down his neck. The boy is dressed in casual wizard garb, black trousers and a while button up shirt with a royal purple robe thrown over. His eyes are greener than even Lily’s were. Though what draws all incoming eyes is the enormous neck scar, looking as if a horrifying claw ripped through his skin like muggle wrapping paper.

He notices that he has guests, and as if a switch flipped his demeanor changes, the somber air turns into that of a kind quiet child.

“Good morning Cobras! Welcome to the snakes den, how may we serve you today!” He turns around and walks inside to the setting of what looks like a meeting place for medieval aristocracy, he beckons us to follow. I share a look with Albus. Out of the corner of my eye I see a reddish snake try to climb up his robes.

“We are Hogwarts Professors-”

“All are welcome in the Snakes den! Sit, Sit.” I look around to see snakes littering the location, and the red one trying to crawl up the boy’s robes keeps being shaken off as the boy is muttering something at it. A few are basking in the light of the chandeliers, while others hide from the light on the vine ridden stone walls. I flinch in shock when the boy motions with his hands and things in the room go flying, assorted snakes go farther away from us, and we are given silverware with strange silver designs on it. Dumbledore looks around in slight concern.

“This is quite the magic young boy,” the smile on his face becomes slightly strained at that comment but Albus doesn't notice, “But we aren’t here to order we are looking to give a Mr H Evans his Hogwarts letter.”

His face becomes slightly distant, “That's me sir, but I already know of magic so you don’t have to give me the muggleborn talk.” Albus shuts up at that line from Evans.

“Are you by chance related to Lily Evans?” I say after looking back at his eyes, and even his cheekbones show as Lily’s did.

Evans squints his eyes in confusion then shakes his head, “I don’t know my family, but I know my parents had no magic, so I’m probably not related to any other Evans you know. Evans is a common name.” My mind was just probably grasping at straws in a desperate wish for Harry to be alive, but this boy looks little like James, his hair looks vaguely like the potter hair but longer, and this is probably just unbrushed or ruffled. He acts nothing like Lily or James, James was a boisterous proud boy, while Lily was confident and soft in personality. As a final piece of evidence, he doesn’t even have the lightning bolt scar that was so prominent on the head of baby Harry Potter. Evans is excitable, but in a shy child sort of way, he is kind and far more adult. Everyone becomes silent for a small period, before another snake tries to climb up Albus’ colorful robes.

Evans walks over to the snake, while Albus looks at it fondly, like one would look at a very young kitten trying to run. Evans kneels down next to the snake and tries to get it to move to his hands instead. He gets frustrated when the snake doesn't.

“You cannot possibly be kidding me Lola, I’ve told you not to scare people.” The snake looks as if it can understand Evans, then immediately crawls up onto his arm, climbing under his sleeve to wrap itself onto him like a strange living bracelet.

Albus looks concernedly at the young boy, a small hint of foreboding and fear twinkles through his eyes, “You remind me much of a young boy I brought to Hogwarts many years ago.”

The boy looks directly at Albus, “Oh, Tom Riddle? I get that a lot. I’m not his son or anything, I just happen to look a lot like a boy who also used to like snakes. What of it?” I didn’t realize it before, but the young boy looks surprisingly like the head boy from my first year at Hogwarts, not completely in appearance but in a sort of aura as well. His magic,  _ feels _ the same, and the way he holds himself is similar, elegant and poised. My gut screams out that this child will be a Slytherin, and if he is, I hope that he can overcome the muggleborn biases held as Tom did.

Albus purses his lips and hesitates for just a fraction of a second, “Do you speak to snakes?” Evans looks back at him strangely, like he asked him if he went to the moon for a cup of tea.

“No, snakes just like me. Are we done with all of the questions so I can have my Hogwarts letter now?”

“Yes-Of Course. Who do you wish to accompany you?” Albus says this, and outerly looks jovial and happy, though I can tell something has irked him about this meeting, I can feel something being off about this too, but I don’t know what.

“Why Would I need someone to accompany me. I live here!”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------Hermione Sept 1 1991---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“First years this way!” I grab Nevilles hand so we can follow the half giant man over to the castle, though Neville keeps muttering about his toad Trevor and looking at the ground. A noisy redhead is short behind us, reluctantly following our makeshift group because besides us he was completely alone. We stand to walk over to -

-Boats?

Are those boats? In a magic school! Hogwarts a History said nothing about this!

Out group consists of me - Hermione Granger -, the redhead Ron Weasley, the shy boy Neville, and a strange probably mute boy. Neither wizard born seems to enjoy the referencing Hogwarts a History, but the mute boy seems to be either very polite or interested himself.

Neville is shy and insecure, I can see the self doubt from a mile away and I think everybody else can. He uses the toad as his only previous friend. Neville seems to have wizard parents, and I remember the longbottoms as famous for the order of the Phoenix in the great wizarding war history book. Draco Malfoy went over to our cabin basically just to tease all of us, he referred to Neville as a squib, but squibs aren’t allowed at Hogwarts. His hair is black, his eyes are brown, and he is slightly pudgy. From what I know he will be a Hufflepuff.

Ron is boisterous, but easily embarrassed, like when I first came into the train car and he was trying to get the mute boy to talk by attempting to turn his rat yellow. His parents aren’t in any of the history books I saw, but he seemed to have been raised by wizards, and he boasted about his brothers in Hogwarts. When Draco Malfoy teased him he was called a muggle sympathizer, so his family must be nice people, unlike Draco’s. Ron has vibrant red hair, soft blue eyes, and is lanky and tall, and If i remember health class correctly that means he will be really tall when he's an adult.  _ Does Hogwarts have a health class, if so ok. But if not when will people learn? I should take classes over the summer so I don’t fall behind all my friends. I’ll have new friends now though. _ I’m almost sure he will be a Gryffindor.

And, the mute boy. He is strange but seemed not to be annoyed by me talking of Hogwarts, unlike the idiot Ron. He was really skinny, and that might’ve explained why he was wearing a giant coat and scarf in September of all times. Draco also ignored him along with me. He is short and skinny, with short and somewhat wild black hair, his eyes are poison green, and he seems very calm and absent minded.

We all pile into one boat to cross the giant lake, Ron goes to the front, and I sit next to him, but when I look around the boy has not gone in with us. 

I can’t move, speak, or look away as I watch the boy walk into the lake and disappear. Neither Ron or Neville saw what happened, too busy talking about some creature or something, I want to tell them what happened but something inside me is telling me just to forget about it. I joyfully start to talk of Hogwarts again as the boys sit there.

“I heard from Hogwarts a history that the castle is sentient, and people talk to it, but it just looks just like a regular castle. Oh - And I heard that there is a secret sorting ceremony.

“My brother told me we have to fight a troll.”

“My nan didn’t say that.”

“That seems awful, how dangerous is this school. Do wizards not have guidelines about the proper conduct and expectations for a school? Why does Hogwarts a History say that they have a forest with werewolves in a school. Maybe we’ll go in there for defense against the dark arts class! I want to learn charms most of all. What do you think the other people are like Ron?”

As I stop talking Ron seems to perk up, “Hey, Neville did you hear Lavender about the boy-who-lived, she wants to go find him.” I pouted at how Ron addresses Neville and not me.

I start, “Isn’t he in our year? That's what the history of famous wizards and witches says on page 240! Why would we need to find him. Oh! Is he really secretive about his fame or something, or is he just really really cool like the muggle celebrities. I want to meet him! We should join her in looking for him, whatever that entails!”

“Yeah! So far we have Lavender, Me, probably my no good brothers, Dean, Seamus, Hannah,”  While he continues listing names that I don’t even think belong to people Neville pats me on the shoulder so that I turn my head, when I turn my gaze to him, and Ron does as well, he looks sheepish then mouths, ‘He’s dead’ at me.

Ron looks indignant, “No he’s not! Bill said that he’s still alive because they haven't found a body yet. People can be missing and not dead! He was probably just kidnapped by dark wizards and will be found soon! You’re just stupid!”

I shout “Ron!”, as Neville stutters, “M-My nan sa-ys he’-s de-ea-d thou-gh.”

“Don’t listen to your nan, she's old. Harry Potter is still alive!” Ron shouts, loud enough that the other members of different boats are looking at us annoyedly.

“ **Is he now?** ” A cold amused voice says behind me, I startle so hard that I almost fall out of the boat. Right behind me is the mute boy from earlier who just said his first words to us. He is now wearing the hogwarts robes that I tried to get him to dress into, and the giant scarf he had on earlier, but now he is sopping wet. I look at him concerned, and he just flashes a toothy grin at me. His toothy grin settles down and he starts to look more normal all at once.

“Don’t stop talking just because of me, I’m Harry Evans, nice to meet all of you.”


	13. Harry gets sorted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last On: How Harry Became MOD:  
> “Is he now?” A cold amused voice says behind me, I startle so hard that I almost fall out of the boat. Right behind me is the mute boy from earlier who just said his first words to us. He is now wearing the Hogwarts robes that I tried to get him to dress into, and the giant scarf he had on earlier, but now he is sopping wet. I look at him concerned, and he just flashes a toothy grin at me. His toothy grin settles down and he starts to look more normal all at once.  
> “Don’t stop talking just because of me, I’m Harry Evans, nice to meet all of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so god heckin pumped that when you search under Master of Death Harry potter, this fic has just surpassed the halfway point of kudos! Just the idea that me being the spaz that I am would get even this much attention, for a first fic. I know it doesn't seem like much but its soooo much to me.

\----------------------------------Hermione POV------------------------------------

Ron hesitates to speak for nigh a moment after that odd introduction from  the mute boy Harry, “Yeah he is! Have anything to say about it!”, Neville in the corner of the boat curls into himself a bit at the perceived drama around him.

Harry scrunches his face for a moment in deliberation, “No, I just wanted to know why you think that, hasn’t nobody seen him since birth or something crazy like that?”

Ron turns red and stutters, I almost giggle but bite it back because I have manners, Ron starts up indignant, “Yeah but he-s the boy who lived! He can’t be killed that easily! You-know-who couldn’t kill him so nobody can.”

Harry starts up, with a conspiratorial sort of facial expression, “But - like what if I stabbed him. What would he do then?”

Ron stares bewildered at harry, and lets out a single confused, “What?”

Harry smiles a shit eating grin at Ron, “Like what if I just stab him,” he raises his hand and makes a stabbing motion, “Like stab a baby, hell even a small child. Stabbidy Stabbidy.” He says this last part while staring directly into Ron’s eyes.

Ron looks worried, and stares into Harry’s eyes as he talks, “But -uh- wizards don’t -uh- do that. We don’t stab people.” In the distance I hear Hagrid calling out that we have to get off our boats, and we all step out as Ron continues staring at Harry nervously and talking. We all walk up to the next landing to wait while in a strange silence.

Harry breaks the silence, “Well, why not? What’s stopping you. What would a baby do against a knife? Grab it and stab you back?”, Harry looks on the verge of laughing, Ron looks disturbed, and I am dare say amused. 

When Malfoy walks up to us Harry slinks back into the rest of the crowd, I spend my attention listening to him instead of Malfoy calling Ron the wrong sort. I can see and hear Harry walk up to a blond girl who I think is named Hannah.

Harry slinks up behind her and says, “Hi Hannah.”

The girl startles and looks back at him, muttering “I don’t know you.”

Harry stares into her eyes, and declared, “Well that's a shame Hannah, because I know you.”, then he slinks away back to our conversation just in time for Malfoy to leave.

\--------------------------------------Harry POV------------------------------------------

“Evans, Harry” The voice rings out the great hall, calling my feet to move towards her. The hat brims with an unknown magic, flooding out of it but somehow contained, and aged like a moldy cheese. 

I sit elegantly on the stool and feel the hat placed on my head, it tries to pry into my mind, and I try to calm down so I can let it.

_ You have mighty fine Occulemcy shields young one, or should I call you Harry Potter _

‘Don’t call me that, because It’s not my name’

**But mine is Ankoku, nice to meet you sentient hat**

‘I don’t think he wants to be called a hat’

_ It is fine young one, I am a hat. _

‘So... am I going to get sorted?’

_ So impatient, I need time to root around in a head like yours _

**Yeah so I have a question. Are Harry and I different enough that it’ll screw up your sorting**

_ You two are so connected it matters not, what house do you think fits best _

**Ravenclaw cause Harry’s a neeeerrrrrrdddd**

‘Oi, Hufflepuff seems pretty damn nice, nobody’s gonna bother me there. Right? Also Cedric's there.’

_ You have ambition young one, and it in spades. You would theoretically fit in all of the houses, but lack a main goal, for ravenclaw you study more for the power instead of the knowledge, for Hufflepuff you are too distrusting to ever fit into that house, for Gryffindor you are too distrusting and paranoid. _

‘I can see the writing on the wall ok? Just, please tell me if you have to tell anyone my birth name.’

_ I cannot tell anyone Harry _

‘Thank you I guess.’

_ So it better be _

“SLYTHERIN!”

- 

My hands twitch just sitting here at a secluded end of the Slytherin table, Draco doesn’t like me so i’m sure as hell not sitting anywhere near him, so I sit alone.I catch the last of a long speech given by Dumbles, 

“... third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to anybody who does not wish to die a very painful death”

But I can barely hear over the bombardment of both internal and external speak, honestly the people without Occlumency barriers just leak thoughts and emotions. Everything hurts like a constant pressure, making me feel unlike myself. It calms slightly as the food arrives, enough to allow me to think with any level of  reasonable clarity. So I decide to look, I catch Cedric smiling at me so I head my way over there.

“Hey Harry, why are you soaking wet.” Cedric shouts this as I walk over, my face threatens to redden but my mask maintains, I resolve to simply flash a manic grin at him. 

_ It's better when people think i'm crazy _

**No, no its not**

I sit down next to him on the Hufflepuff benches, behind me sits Hermione her on the Gryffindor benches, I can feel the weight of her gaze on the back of my head. She looks away when the food arrives out of thin air, surprised.

**We really shouldn’t of gotten our heart set on Hufflepuff shouldn’t we of.**

_ Shut up Ankoku. Just shut up. _

“I-uh- took a dip in the lake before getting here Ced.” I reach my hand over for a giant plate of mashed potatoes, and Cedric passes them to me. On my left side is a girl with fair skin curly red hair, and across is a girl with coppery skin and silky black hair.

The girl across shoots me a confused kid, “Hey Ced, who’s the kid. And he isn’t’ a new Hufflepuff so why is he here?”, the girl to my left mumbles in agreement at the question with her mouth full of turkey.

“My name is Harry Evans, and yours is,?”

The girl across holds out her hand to me, so I reach mine out to hers, “My name is Katrina Reynolds, and hers,” she points at the redhead sat next to me, “Is Lilith Satgrother.” I shake hands with Katrina, and try to shake Lilith’s but she just gives me a hard thwack on the back. 

“Is something wrong Harry? Not that I mind you being here but shouldn’t you be meeting your new housemates instead of a bunch of third year Hufflepuffs?”” Cedric gives me the concerned mother look, so I grumble slightly.

**He has a good point Har**

_ I am not going back there just for Malfoy to insult the family that he knows I don’t have. God I wish we didn’t know him. _

**Calm down Har. I’m not forcing you to do anything, I’m just suggesting that we do something to the Malfoy boy to show him who doesn’t want to be messed with.**

_ NO, uh sorry, but not doing that though _

**Shame**

“It’s just that Malfoy over there,” I point to the end of the table where Malfoy is surrounded by a group of short Slytherins, “Is king Snake boy himself already” **calm down and speak more eloquently, you have people to impress.** _Not trying to impress anyone, it better not have been you who got us to Slytherin._ “or some BS like that, and he doesn’t exactly like me.” Cedric hums in agreement through a mouthful of food, swallowing it before speaking.

**You’re the one so ambitious to want to speak to a god.**

“That sure sucks Harry, but you’re always welcome with us in Hufflepuff house.” He ruffles my hair, which afterwards I try to pat down as much as possible so I look less like the spawn of a Potter. But Cedric doesn’t know that, he just thinks I’m flustered in a new place, so he softly chuckles.

_ Yes. Why would a goddess of nightmares personally bother a random kid. _

“Thanks Ced, I’ll try to get along with my house at least a bit, ok? They’re just soo insufferable already.” I push back my food, already finished with it due to my small appetite after only 10 minutes.

**You are extraordinary, we are amazing, when will you realize that!**

Lilith makes a show of pondering, “How are you, no offense, of all people in Slytherin! Ya woulda made a good addition to hufflepuff house, especially if you have a solid set of smarts.”

_ Most people on the planet are ordinary, that means logically I should be too. _

I sigh exasperated, “I don’t know! I wanted to be in Hufflepuff. In Hufflepuff people are nice, In Slytherin they’re all lying and trying to play the political game.”

**You are already a wizard, so you are already unique.**

Cedric looks slightly sad, leaning over to whisper something into my ear, “I knew you wouldn’t get into Hufflepuff Harry, just didn’t have the heart to tell ya that. You are too secretive, I’ve known you since you were 7 and I don’t even know where you used to live.” I look around to see if anyone else heard that, but they’re all just paying attention to their food at the moment.

_ The logic still applies, just replace the word people with wizards _

I sigh, “Guess you’re right Cedric.” We sit into a somewhat awkward silence before Cedric breaks it. 

**That's papal bull and you know it. We have the powers of the shadow realm behind us, and you call us ordinary?**

“I remember you were all pumped for defense class, sorry that Quirrell is teaching this year. He used to be the muggle studies teacher, and he’s kinda odd.” I look up at the teacher’s table, where Cedric is pointing to a shrew like man with balding black hair. Next to him is a greasy black haired man with a hook nose staring at Quirrell as if he was personally offended.

_ Anyways, Geth doesn’t have a pattern of talking to mortals, no book even mentions her doing anything of the sort. _

“Who’s that man sitting next to him?” I point at Snape, drawing the attention of Katrina and Lilith.

**I have a theory, but you’d just yell at me**

Lilith groans, “That's the slimy bat king himself, Snape. He teaches potions” I choose to ignore the odd statement from Ankoku.

_ Any why would Geth show me a vision of my dead mom hating me? _

Katrina raises her eyebrows at Lilith, “He’s not as bad as Lilith’d have you believe Harry. He teaches potions and is kinda strict though. He also has huge house biases. Annoyed by Ravenclaws, Hates Gryffindors, loves the Slytherins, and is very indifferent about the proud puffs.  _ You _ have nothing to worry about.”

**Do I look like a book, there’s a good library here**

“Swell.” Dessert appears on the table, different sweets littering the whole hall. Behind me I hear the loud thoughts of a homesick girl, I try to block them out to preserve individual privacy, but they are so loud and come without warning,

‘I wish there were cupcakes, mom’s red velvet cupcakes, here like home. I wish I could, no I don’t!’

I look behind me to see Hermione sitting alone, pushing a piece of cake around her plate, oozing sadness. I decided to improve my occlumency so that I don’t encroach on other people’s minds yet. It really is so sad that somebody so surrounded by happiness can feel so alone, but it seems nobody is making any effort at reaching out to her to talk.

_ I really should visit it, maybe something will have good info _

“Cheer up Harry,” Lilith says, “Eat some chocolate or something to cheer ya up.” I grab the plate of chocolate frogs from her hands, stuffing one in my mouth.

**It’s ok, probably just a weird nightmare**

“Thanks.”

_ I really don’t think so _

Lilith grins, “Don’t worry Harry, people may not love us much, but us Puffs take care of our own. You may have been sorted into slytherin but you are an honorary Puff in my eyes.”

**What else would it be? Some conspiracy**

I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve known me for at most an hour.”

_ I don’t know and it worries me _

She smiles, “An hour is like 4% of a mayfly’s life, that's like me knowing you a few months.” She has a strangely endearing feel about her, due to her face covered in chocolate.

**We should just accept our unknowing**

Katrina runs her hands through her hair, “I don’t think that’s how it works Lilith, but I admire the spirit anyways. Though, the honorary puff title stands from me too, Puffs are kind to all.”

_ I guess so _

We continue to eat in a companionable conversation, eating as much deserts as our youth will allow. At the end of the feast the class erupts in song, with us singing to the tune of twinkle twinkle star.

I stand up, following Cedric out of the hall even though the Slytherin prefects are calling for all first years, I can already see where the dorms are, i'll be fine. Cedric just looks down at me following him and grabs my hand so we won't be seperated. I squeeze his hand back.

Everyone is surrounding me as we travel through the crowd, my shields strain under the constant pressure from others, causing a splitting headache. Other people’s emotions threaten to bleed into my own, peoples thoughts begging to be heard, the feeling of people around is mentally and physically crushing. I feel my age for the first time in many years, huddling closer to Cedric to feel safe, though nothing helps. 

I look up to see Cedric looking down on me confused, “I don’t feel well.” I say, as a token of truth, but he sees it only as me trying to have an excuse for physical contact, so he brushes it off.

I feel the walls of my mind castle crack violently, and everyone's thoughts rush in to replace my own, 

_ I wonder what's up with Harry _

_ Crabbe and Goyle make horrible friends, I need to gather more Slytherins _

_ I don’t want to go to potions, Fred and George say Snape hates Gryffindors _

_ I want to go home, no you don’t. YOU WILL FEEL LESS HOMESICK TOMORROW OK HERMIONE! I guess so _

I try to breathe, and it lets up for a second, “Cedric I REALLY don’t feel well.” I don't see him, as my vision is returned to others minds, but the intensity increases to flashes of memory.

 

_ A young man with long greasy black hair sits down next to the giant Hogwarts lake, a man who looks like James Potter sneaks around the corner, he waves his wand and suddenly the black haired man is covered in something sticky and brown, smells like molasses, probably molasses. As Potter laughs, three other boys appear from behind a corner, a tall, handsome boy with wavy black hair laughs, a small chubby mousy boy with blond short curls giggles, and a tall blond man covered in scratch scars crosses his eyes and fights back a smile. _

 

_ A little boy with platinum blond hair grabs a small black leather book off of the shelf of a giant dark oak library. He holds the book for a second and just stares at the cupboard and flips through the empty pages. It seems to be a diary, and the name monogrammed into it is T.M.Riddle. The little boy just sits on the floor staring intently at it, caressing the pages. After roughly an hour a tall man with similar but long platinum blond hair walks in, looks appreciatively at the boy for a second, then grabs the book out of the boy’s small fingers. _

_ “Never touch this book again Draco. It’s dangerous.” The tall man says, and places the book back on the tallest shelf. _

_ “Why not dad, it's just an empty diary.” _

_ “Just listen to me, for the love of Merlin. Don’t touch this book, never write in this book, and certainly even if you do write in it, come to me if  you worry about anything. It is dark magic and will leach on your soul.” _

_ The boy simply nods, absolutely terrified. _

_ “Come on Draco, your mother wants you with us for dinner. The minister is coming over, and he is very interested in working with us, so make a good impression.” _

_ The boy nods again, less terrified. _

_ “Good boy.” _

 

_ I sit at the teachers table of the Hogwarts great hall next to Dumbledore with no wrinkles and red hair. I follow his gaze to look at the scene he watches. _

_ A small boy with black hair and grey eyes sits at the end of the Slytherin table, everybody flees from his presence. He is shaking, he is wearing worn down hand-me down robes, and is holding a ruined book. He looks almost at tears, clutching his wand in his right hand and the ruined book with the left. He flees the room in a fast walk. _

_ A group of older boys snicker in his direction, the tallest grabs another’s arm, causing the three to follow. They look at least to be 16, while the black haired boy looks to be at most 12. They leave the center of the Slytherin group with everybody giggling in anticipation about what amusement will come from the downtrodden boy. _

_ After a few minutes the black haired boy returns to the great hall. His robes are slightly singed. He goes to sit down at the center of the Slytherin table, says something, and everybody cowers in fear. A snake slithers out of his robes sleeve, resting on the table in front of him. Everybody shifts away from him, but a glare sends them moving back. A boy that looks similar to Draco walks over to him, introduces himself, then sits right next to him. The black haired boy laughs. _

_ He looks back at me with burning red eyes. _

My vision fades to black, and I fall unconscious.

  
  


\----------------------------------Hermione POV------------------------------------

  
  
  


I rush into transfiguration class with Mrs McGonagall, and sit down in the seat closest to her desk, though there is just a cat and no teacher. The class fills up behind me, likely trying to get a seat farthest from the infamously strict teacher, especially the Slytherins who’ve taken to sitting in the back of the room clustered around Malfoy and talking. My wand feels warm in my hand, practically responding to the questions of magic I have _ , and urging me to learn, learn, learn! _ Out of my bag comes parchment and a quill, though the quill still feels truly and utterly wrong to use to write, I will not be a coward and default to using my wonderful, easy ballpoint pens.

_ Honestly Wizards can be so barbaric sometimes! _

The clock chimes, signalling the start of this class, and a few more of my fellow Gryffs pile into the chairs away from both the desk and Slytherins. I feel so alone right now, surrounded by empty chairs and followed by the annoyed gaze of Malfoy, nobody wants to be with me. 

_ Nobody wants me, and why would they. I am just a stupid muggleborn. I need to be smarter, If I’m smarter they’ll like me. If I’m smarter I deserve to have them like me. I know nobody, I am alone, they hate me, they should hate me. I know nothing, I am practically not a witch, why did they put me in here just to be alone and scared, I can barely hold a quill and Have no friends. _

_ But you’re better than that Hermione, I know that, we know that and It is all ok. We will always be ok. We will be strong, we will show them all who knows more. If they do not like us then they can just wish they did, we will show them that muggleborns are no less than anybody else. _

_ But for that we need to learn, to learn. Spells are power, and why does nobody else pay attention to these open grimoires of information about how to alter the universe around us? But I will, I will alter the universe to what I want, I will fight my battles alone if nobody will go with me. I can do this. _

_ I will be the next merlin, the next rowena ravenclaw, the next … Harry Potter. I can be the savior that the world needs, I can achieve anything I want if I just have the knowledge. I will save them all. _

The class starts to get tense, everybody has ceased to move or talk, fearing McGonagall will burst in at any moment to scold us. Malfoy snickers in the corner, clearly amused by something, but also keeps relatively quiet. Out of the quiet Ron bursts through the door, the room quiets behind him he rushes up to an empty seat. He stops by Seamus,

“Phew, Can you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if I was late!” He leans on Seamus’ desk as he chuckles. I look back at the front of the classroom just in time to see McGonagall transform out of the cat and land gracefully on the floor of the classroom. Ron gapes at her.

“That was bloody brilliant” Ron continues to gape at her, not realizing how much of a fool he was making himself in his first transfiguration class.

“Thank you for that assessment Mr Weasley, Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure you into a pocket watch so you might be on time.” She pauses, “Anyways go to your seat, Mr. Evans hasn’t shown up yet either.”

Ron perks up, “You do that again for Harry.” But sits down when McGonagall shoots a stern look at him.

“Very helpful Mr. Weasley.” She turns to look around the classroom to take roll, but jumps when she looks over at my desk, I look over and inadvertently mimic her actions when I see Harry sitting right next to me.

“I got here before Ron, McGonagall.” Harry smiles angelically at McGonagall as she purses her lips. She moves to say something, but stops at the last moment. She moves to the front of her class and starts to teach. I look over and notice that Harry is wearing robes that are obviously wrinkled, and a giant hufflepuff scarf instead of the slytherin one that his old one turned into. It's strange that McGonagall didn’t tell him off for that, but to be fair everything about that boy is strange.

McGonagall continues to teach at the front of the class, her words falling into a somewhat monotonous rhythm characteristic of all teachers from muggle primary school. I write down everything she says, just in case. Harry isn’t writing any notes though.

He turns to me as McGonagall continues speaking, I ignore him in favor of learning, but he starts to talk, “Are you feeling alright Hermione?”, he says in a concerned and even more angelic voice.

_ Your life will end if you don’t learn all there is to know, knowledge is power, and power is the game the world plays. We must be great, we will become the minister of magic at a record young age, we will defeat the blood purists with words and bravery …  _

“Shhh-” I lean over slightly to help whispering at Harry, “I’m fine, be quiet or McGonagall will hear you.” As if to spite him I write down even more notes at a faster speed, but these notes don’t even cover what McGonagall is teaching in class, just my own personal studies of the textbook.

Harry leans over in an exaggerated way to me, and says in a voice almost inaudible, “I don’t believe you,” And tries to hand something to me. I peek a look at it out of curiosity to see it is the most beautiful cupcake I have ever seen, and It looks like red velvet, my favorite kind too.

The professor continues teaching, and spares a look at our desk at just the worst time, ordering out in a mix of confusion and annoyance “No food allowed in class Mr. Evans. 5 points from Slytherin.” Harry rolls his eyes, shrugs, and snaps his fingers, causing the cupcake to disappear and McGonagall to give a strange look our way.

“Can anyone tell me what spell would be used to turn a match into a needle?” She looks around the room, eyes settling firmly past me and onto the snickering Malfoy, “Mr. Malfoy.”

He perks up like a prairie dog at the sight of danger, a worry infusing itself into his normally smug voice, “And what was the question professor?”

“What spell is used to turn a match into a needle Mr. Malfoy? I trust you’ve used the time not spent paying attention in my class on studying your textbook?”

“It’s uh- Acus Fieri” He looks up and regains his confident air.

“5 points to Slytherin Mr. Malfoy for your correct answer. Today we will be studying how to turn a match into a needle with the spell Acus Fieri, the wand motion for this spell is three arc all leading upwards, as so.” She demonstrates the movement with her wand, and the class follows along. Suddenly all of our desks have matches on them, “Now for the practical part of our class.” She orders, then starts to pace around the room.

I stare intently at the match, following her wand movements exactly, and pronouncing the words perfectly. The needle looks as if it is threatening to turn grey one time, but it is no needle. Before I know It I have waseed 5 minute on failure, huffing my frustration out by putting down my wand and stretching.

I look over to see how Harry is doing, to see him staring disappointedly down at his match while it stubbornly refuses to turn into a needle. I watch in curiosity as he stares at his wand, and places it down on the table, cracking his knuckles as if he is preparing for something. He catches my gaze, pressing a finger to his lips in the muggle gesture of, ‘keep silent’.

As I watch he moves his fingers over the match in a delicate and gorgeous display of magic, he looks as if he is weaving the universe together, stitching the bonds of the mind, connecting the strings of fate, and at the end the match turns into an elegantly designed needle. The needle has a faint design of the four Hogwarts crests on it. He picks up his wand, and smiles at me. I feel strangely compelled to keep silent of that display.

“That is quite an impressive needle Mr. Evans, 5 points to Slytherin.” He just smiles back at McGonagall as she inspects the match. While the professor looks at the intricate designs I pick up my wand to try again, oddly on the first try it works, turning into flawless steel needle.

The clock chimes again, I look over to talk to Harry only to see him and all of his stuff are already gone. I reach over to pile my books so that I can put them in my bag. In the background I hear Ron talking to Seamus but pay it no mind.

I open my bag to find the red velvet cupcake sitting in there pristine, a small note sits next to it,

**Hermione-**

**Don’t worry, cupcakes make everything better**

My mouth turns into a smile for the first time this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions or comments about how the story is going are highly appreciated, and especially support motivates me to write more chapters. I don't know how the other fic writers write like 10k word chapters, but I can't. I still really want to know if any of you would particularity appreciate specific people's POV, It helps me figure out what to write.


	14. A Malfoy feud begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lat up:  
> I open my bag to find the red velvet cupcake sitting in there pristine, a small note sits next to it,  
> Hermione-  
> Don’t worry, cupcakes make everything better  
>  My mouth turns into a smile for the first time this day.

_ Lord Malfoy walks rooms alone, feeling the dead hum of ancient magic just begging right at his fingertips. It mutters, and mutters, and mutters words of old. He paces throughout the manor, drawing eyes his way, feeling the emptiness from the sudden departure his son had from the household. He walks and walks. He remembers, he feels the traces of old magic sticking to the back of chairs, to the healed scorch marks on the walls that still stinks of a magical aroma. The house elves buzz with nervous energy, the ghosts he can feel but not see brush at the edges of his imagination with a feeling of emptiness reserved only for the unsatisfied dead, and his lady’s moves with a lavender smell and feel of naught but comfort. The lord would like to imagine that his aura feels like hers, but he cannot sense his own. He walks by a room, and is overwhelmed by the magic left behind from his only, a magic that smells like smoke and feels like pride. _

_ His copy in all but blood and gender looks his way with worry in her eyes, sensing a feeling of something off. She could tell he loved their son more than he would let on, but did he know this? The lady walks over to his pacing form, attempting to draw attention through the subtlety so ingrained in them, but the man does not cease. Her branded ladyness from birth demands in her head that she does no more, it is only polite after all. She purses her lips, letting him pass without anymore attempts at mild interference on her part.  _

_ Portraits of his ancestors line the walls. As the lord walks deeper into the older parts of his manor, the people resemble him less and less, and try to bother him more and more. Hair lightens even lighter than thought possible from something made of the flesh of mortals, faces sharpen, eyes look similar to moving storm clouds instead of the static silver color in them now.. These shadows of people resemble the real ones in a way that feels so empty and fake, but the Lord cares not, their magic tastes like coins. _

_ At the end of the hall of portraits is a large and old library, the door creaks as the Lord opens it. Magical dust is coating all of the books, invisible to all but the most magical of beings, a sort of soulful remnant of the different powers that clouded the room. The lord ignores the books, deciding to walk all the way to the back of the enormous library, the surface area of the shelves at least that of a Quidditch field. _

_ He reaches for one small black book, holding its light but sturdy nature in his hands. He watches in fascination as the magic of the book tests his, little dark tendrils reaching out from the pages, appearing as ink, and if seen closely enough it is small words. Stories worth of words, books worth of words, libraries worth of words, all contained within this little black book.  _

_ He wants to give in to the will of the book, he wants to more than he wants to take his next breath. But he can’t, he will not give in no matter how much the book begs, tears, and screams. Perhaps the book knows this as well, but the book would never even care. Sometimes the lord hears faint screams from the pages of the book, screams of agony, screams of terror, screams of a young man who would literally kill for even the slightest taste of freedom. The book does not realize the irony of having killed to get in, and desiring to kill to leave. The man knows it will have it’s chance, he already promised it that it had only a single more year to wait out in exile. Only one more year. _

_ ‘Lucius’, A voice whispers similar to that of the lord’s long dead lord. The deep voice not of Voldemort, but of the dark lord young Malfoy saw walking around his house as if he owned the place, and truly in a sense he did. The man who would charm his way into the minds and beds of the major political figures before ruining their reputation to further his own. Nobody would be able to trace those actions back to him though, he was simply far too good at what he did, like a demigod. The man turns the midnight diary around in his hands, but with every fiber of his being knows that those sounds were not made by the book. The book’s screams sound juvenile, sickening him more and more each year as they sound closer to a scream that could be made by his son. _

_ The lord’s worry tingles, placing the thin book back on the top shelf. A small overwhelming fit of paranoia causes the man to hide the book away with a thick coat of his own magic. He watches his own gloved hand, watching as it shakes and shakes uncontrollably. He assures himself that this is all for his son, for his son to have a place in the true world. But the shaking stops not. _

_ ‘Not yet Lucius, wait.’ A cold hand rests itself on the lord’s shoulder, threatening to pass through as if the owner of said hand was a ghost. It cools down the longer it rests on the man’s shoulder. _

_ “M-My lord?” The normally calm and masked man chokes out, his shoulder burning like an inverted sun but only increasing in it’s pain. The man now knows it is his lord, only his lord can elicit the fear he is overcome with at this moment, the mind tearing terror disintegrating the fabric of tissue holding his brain together. _

_ ‘Yes Lucius.’ The voice behind his back commands, but after a moment of tense silence the voice appears as a murmur in his ear, ‘The diary can handle waiting another few years, can it not?’ _

_ The man’s breath hitches at the voice, “I am sure my lord.” The cold on his shoulder subsides slightly, from the bite of snow dragon to the feeling of barbed needles ripping themselves out from his skin over and over and over and over and over again. He dares not turn his head, staying stiller than the day he was born, the first birth to increase the ranks of the death eaters. The shaking ceases out of pure fear of the man he was born to follow. _

_ The voice reappears behind his left shoulder, ‘Where is the boy?’, the mark of dark punctuates every syllable made by the man, causing a strange and utter concentration on his words and to ignore all other stimuli. The mn wonders what boy his lord could possibly want, but the realization hits him like a dementor with no escape. _

_ “The boy is dead my lord, stunning work of one allied to our cause, I am sure.” _

_ ‘You lie not out of malous, but out of true and utter ignorance. I am not sure which I despise more in my followers. Disappearance is not death. I know the boy is alive, though where is what I am not sure of.’ _

_ “I will find the boy, my lord.” The hand on his shoulder subsides completely, causing a slight tingling as if a limb had fallen asleep. _

_ ‘Or else.’ The Lord’s Lord holds the sharp s sound at the end of the word for many moments, the sound more sybiant each moment as it slowly fades out of hearing. _

_ “Yes my lord, of course.” _

_ The man waits for a response, but hears none, he refuses to break the rules of polite society, so he keeps quiet. The shaking returns full force, but the man’s feet remain planted to the one spot in the library he stood through the entire interaction. He feels the diary explore the room with it’s magic slightly, the glamour changing its appearance is the first thing targeted, so the lord quickly dispels it. _

_ He waits for an hour of his internal clock, and at the end of that time he turns furiously. There is no evidence that anyone was ever there. _

_ The man shakes away his anxiety, walking out of the room at a brisk speed. He passes row after row of book after book, but bothers not to read the magic from his surroundings as he did when entering. His footsteps echo through an abandoned f=room of a practically abandoned manor. _

_ The portraits grumble as he returns to the hallway he entered through, but he continues to ignore them and briskly walks in an elegant and wizardly manor.  _

_ As soon as the lord is gone from view, my view is reached towards a portrait at the back, while no gaze was on it the masculine face turned feminine, hair whitens and lengthens, the eyes turn blue and robotic. Geth flashes a mocking smile at me. _

_ “Time to wake up, Hadrian James Potter.” _

  
  


“Oi Harry, wake up. You’ll miss breakfast if you sleep in.” The curtains around my bed are forced open, the light from the chandelier streaming through my eyelids causing a slight headache. My eyes flutter open to see a very pale figure standing over me.

_ What was that dream? _

“Malfoy?” I ask, my lethargia seeping deep into each slow and grumbly syllable in my voice. I rub my eyes to see that the figure standing there is indeed Malfoy, wearing very fancy Slytherin robes and standing in our shared dorm.  I find Malfoy always slightly strange to talk to, mostly because of the total lack of emotions and thoughts that seep through his mind, he has none. Do you know how weird that is?, I can feel emotions from dumbles, Dumbledore, but not some smug eleven year old.

I throw up a tempus and squint at him, “Why are you waking me up this early for breakfast, it’s only 7:30, breakfast ends at 9:30. More importantly why are you up at the ass crack of dawn.” Malfoy huffs at my inappropriate language but I couldn’t care less about some stuffy pure blood manners.

Malfoy huffs another time, and goes slightly, and I mean very slightly, pink. “I can’t just leave you here to sleep in, yesterday you barely got to transfiguration on time.” It is time for me to return Malfoy’s huffiness, I just want to scream at him,  _ That's not because of sleeping in you dipshit _ , but can’t. I settle for crossing my arms and staring at him standing there.

Malfoy eyes me strangely, “Do you sleep in a scarf too Harry? At least it’s not that garish one you wore yesterday.” I put my hand on the midnight black scarf I charmed my Hogwarts Slytherin one into, I had returned Cedric’s to him yesterday. I do wear a scarf to sleep, fight me.

My mood turns around in an instant, my eyebrows raise from eyes that have turned playful. I throw a shit eating grin at Malfoy and stand up, “You notice me Malfoy? Aww that’s sweet, I didn’t know you cared about little old me.”. Before he can respond I grab my Hogwarts robes and go to the bathroom. I quickly change into the despised house colors before walking back out to Malfoy. Malfoy is still standing there, and I notice to my slight annoyance that even before puberty has set in he is about 10cm taller than me.

I put my hand on the midnight black scarf, “Hey Malfoy, what color should my scarf be today?” I summon the mirror in my bag with a wave of my hand, and start changing the colors of the scarf, carefully looking at different colors on me. Green is too Slytherin for my tastes, purple makes me seem like a stuffy rich person, white is too innocent.

Malfoy catches my attention with a small noise when my scarf is at a pale pink, “I noticed you because of, -uh-,” he gestures at the mirror being levitated with wandless magic in front of me while I twirl, “because of that. You should at least try green and silver, Harry you are still in Slytherin house, no matter how much you consort with the Hufflepuffs.”

I stop twirling to stare right at him with a confused face, and he twitches under my gaze, “Malfoy, why do you do that.”

Malfoy looks twitchy, but disgruntled at my questioning of him, “What?”

I scrunch my face up, “Call me Harry, its weird that's what. And i'm not special with my magic, I just have more practice than you, nothing interesting.”

**Lies, flat out lies.**

_ Oh so now you pay attention to me _

**I didn’t respond for 3 minutes!**

_ Yeah, you didn’t respond for 3 minutes. _

Malfoy stands up straight and puts up his chin, “I call you Harry because I want to be friends with you. You can never have enough powerful friends in Slytherin, you should know that.” He puts out his hand as if he expects me to shake it.

**Just forget about the dream. I don’t think we should interfere on the Malfoy spawn’s father’s life, even if he does have dark artifacts.**

_ Why was Geth there _

**The book says she never takes interest in mortals, so I don’t know**

_ WE ARE NOT IMMORTAL ANKOKU! _

**Well -uh- never know till you try**

_ NO! JUST NO! _

**Sheesh**

I raise one eyebrow, but inside my anxiety at this strange situation peaks,  _ Does he know who I am? Is he trying to use me? Why is he doing this? _ , so my magic goes haywire, changing my scarf different colors faster than I can identify what those colors are, about one change every heartbeat, “Why do you think I’m so powerful? I think you’re just up for a big disappointment concerning me.”

Malfoy’s annoyance peaks, and he starts to shout, “How do you have more practice than make! How is it possible that a muggle-born has more magical practice than a pureblood with tutors upon tutors! How!”

My angered magic seeps into the air, darkening the room around us, before I can make this situation worse Ankoku takes over the voice, “ **I think you’re just jealous** **_Malfoy_ ** **. I KNOW that Purebloods don’t teach their kids even a lick of magic before hogwarts,** ” Malfoy nods stiffly, “ **Just god damn politics. You must be thick to think that that constitutes magical practice.** ” I breathe in and out slowly, so the magic curls unto myself carefully.

Malfoy’s anger still has not subsided, “So what! It still makes no sense, your story is clouded by secrets. Who are you even! You don’t look like a muggleborn, you look like a pureblood! How do you know your so called parents were even your parents! How do you know you weren’t some poor baby abandoned in the war only for your parents to forget about you! Ditch those dirty muggle parents and go find your real ones!”

The faces of my fake alibi parents flash before my eyes, the parents I have forced myself to accept, and after so much time they are more parents to me than James and Lily were. I know their story, a story that is more real to me than the ones of those parents who truly existed. William and Fraia Evans, born in the late 50s.

William Evans was a tall and skinny man with green eyes and tawny hair. William Evans was born to an incredibly poor family in the late 1950s, he dropped out of highschool to support his younger siblings when his parents died of measles, that took out his and many other families in his small town in rural England. His highschool girlfriend Fraia Peters and her younger siblings moved in with them because her parents also died of the same outbreak. He became a very dedicated mechanic for the small village, making sure that all of his siblings got good education, at the cost of him remaining horribly poor. William Evans died of an unknown illness shortly after my conception.

Fraia Peters was a very short and frail woman with light blue eyes and deep black hair, she had aristocratic features inherited from her disgraced Hapsburg grandmother. Fraia was born to a rapidly poorening faux aristocratic family in the late 1950s. Fraia moved in with her highschool boyfriend after her parents died of measles, she moved in due to her resulting financial insecurity. She took care of their collective younger siblings, and worked on the side as a receptionist for a small hotel chain. Fraia Peters was notoriously frail throughout her life, causing her death during my childbirth. Her younger sister who turned out to be a muggle born witch who took care of me and raised me until her death in 1987.  
I can see their faces in my mind when Malfoy says his short and stupid rant, I should be able to let this bother me less but those people are Harry Evan’s parents. And I am Harry Evans. Harry Evans doesn’t exist, but that matters none. These parents represent my separation from life danger at being a Potter spawn, and separate me from those horrid Dursleys.

I storm out of our shared dorm to the great hall, my scarf still changes colors faster than my heart beats but I can’t bring myself to care. If anybody cared enough to notice a young muggleborn they would see the shadows curling around my form, flocking in a way that defies all the laws of physics with its strange nature. I run my hands through my hair but the haywire magic just causes the hair to fly around wildly, resembling James Potter an immense amount. Things around the halway shake, and portraits eye me strangely as they jiggle in their frames.

The great hall doors are right there, but I stand and calm myself down for a second before entrance, the scarf settles back on a deep grey.

I scan  the great hall to notice a nice empty space in the slytherin table, so I sit down with a few pieces of buttered toast. My appetite does not make itself known, so in my boredom and ancyness I have the two pieces of toast transform into the muggle transformers and fight it out on my plate. I watch in interest as they move around the table, one grabs a knife to use as a sword, and one rips the head off of a fork to use as a helmet, using the rest of the fork as a strange club. The magic fades from them, leaving me feeling magically drained and deeply regretting using brute force magic to do something that should be done with precision and attention to detail. I eat the toast transformers, move my plate, and fall asleep on the table.

I feel myself being awoken by another person for the second time this day.

“That's better. Good morning Harry!” I open my eyes at the voice I recognize to be Hermione, to see the table cloth all around us in like a 2 meter radius to be red and yellow polka dots. Hermione has an enormous grin on her face that I quickly match. Ron sits on the other side of her, and for some strange reason they’re both at the Slytherin table.

“That's really impressive Hermione.” I say, hearing the reverberations of happiness and excitement escaping her mine as she flushes slightly pink in embarrassment.

She smiles, “I learned it yesterday!”

Ron grumbles slightly and looks annoyed, “My spell woulda worked if my brothers weren’t such wankers. I could do it too” He grabs an enormous plate of sausages and starts to furiously dig in. I look around for better food and notice Malfoy staring at me with a stunning intensity, I look at him with my eyebrows raised, causing him to look away.

Smirking at Ron I say, “Could ya now?”

He gets defensive, “Of course I could, If I knew the spell.”. I grab an apple, and bite into it loudly. When Hermione finally looks up from her food at Ron I throw a quick spell. Ron’s hair turns pink with yellow polka dots, startling a chuckle out of Hermione. Ron notices nothing of this though, looking over my shoulder.

Ron turns back to me, and through a giant mouthful of food says,  “Oi mate, what’dya do to Malfoy. He’s lookin at you funny.” I look back, and sure as Ron’s hair looks ridiculous Malfoy is looking at me again.

“No Clue.” The bell rings, and we all go to potions. Throughout the next few days all classes pass far easier than that first transfiguration class, and I even gain some skill in pretending to use my wand for spells.

\-----

Potions is strange, the teacher seems to be annoyed at my presence, any my collaboration exclusively with the Gryffs, but does nothing of it. He seems to tolerate me, and also be quite confused by me. Malfoy keeps looking at me even through potions, so I turn his hair neon orange (i love that spell. I know very few). Snape gets pissed that somebody had managed to turn both Ron and Malfoy’s hair different colors, but can’t find anyone to dock points off of so he just turns them back to how they were. Hermione is losing it with silent laughter through all the encounters. I get a full grade for my potion, because I read the rules unlike some people.

\----

In astronomy it's the Slytherins with the hufflepuffs, so I reconnect with Hannah, even though she has no clue who I am and doesn’t remember that encounter years ago. I refuse to tell her my name just because it annoys her. When Hannah answers something wrong I take pity on her, the teacher scolds her as I pick up Hannah’s textbook, glamour a page so It describes exactly what Hannah told the teacher about a random star in the sky, and asked the teacher who’s fault it was that Hanna answered wrong. Hannah has amicably tolerated me ever since that incident, and we have become a sort of pseudo friend. Throughout that whole lie Malfoy was staring holes into my back, so he must know that I lied.

\----

In flying class I do quite well for my first time, though make an effort not to show off. When Neville falls, I levitate him as much as I can to soften the fall, Madame hooch brings Neville to the hospital wing for an injured but not broken wrist. When Malfoy takes his remembrall and tries to goad both me and Ron to take it from him in the air, I cast a small spell on the object. In Front of half the first year class the remembrall goes bright red, and as malfoy holds it in the air screams so half the school can hear it, “YOU FORGOT YOUR MANNERS, BITCH!”, and he drops it while turning bright red. I catch the remembrall and Malfoy gets a detention for hiding from his embarrassment in the air while Madame Hooch returns. At that moment I feel slightly bad for retaliating for simple stares, but when I remember he insulted Neville and stole his property, I relax.

\---

Quirrell looks at me funny sometimes during defense against the dark arts class, but the stares are nothing compared to how much Malfoy glares at me now. I do quite well in defense against the dark arts class when we are asked to show simple spells we know. Quirrell kinda creeps me out but it is no matter.

\----

In Flitwick’s class we learn the base types of charms, and nothing especially extraordinary happens. Though I do steal a small encyclopedia of charms spells, (I duplicate it and take the duplicate, jeez), to study as many as I can to help me practice even more than just my textbooks.

\-----

In history of magic I am bored by professor Binns before he even enters the room. His voice is so monotonous that I cast a modified one of the charms I took from the lexicon, I change his perceived mannerisms so that he gestures wildly with his hands and dances. I also change his voice to be more varied and spastic. Ron walks up to me after the class to ask what I did the Binns, but I just ask him if he’d rather I reverse it which he refuses. I had a creepy feeling that somebody was watching that entire conversation, but cold do nothing about it.

\----

In Herbology we just do simple caring of the nonviolent and non dangerous plants that are in the greenhouse, and I realize that some of these plants are mildly sentient. While the rest of the class waters one the sentient type of plants calmly and slowly as directed, I charm my watering can to water for me perfectly, and try to talk to the plant. The plant can hear me, and telepathically responds, but plants aren’t interesting so I get bored of gossip about the other plants and when they’ll flower. Neville excitedly talks to me after class about the possibility that many plants are sentient after he notices me talking to one. I agree to some basic research conduction with Neville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my favorite interpretation of OOC people is a chaotic good version, so i go for that. hopefully y'all like It too! Next chapter will deal with the whole Halloween incident, gotta keep the book tradition of something happening on the 31st of October!


	15. Halloween pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets a hamster, a bounty, and a bad grade in charms

_ Harry opens his eyes, finding the haze of a dream rack his body in a way it only does when he awakes. He sits in a room with soft yellow walls, covered in pink and blue flowers. Around the room are supplies for babies, diapers, bottles, even muggle formula. He realizes he is sitting on the only adult chair in the room, a red beanbag/armchair.  _

_ He notices a giant mirror across the room, near the door, but it reflects a kid with a lightning bolt scar and wild black hair. He stares at it for a moment in confusion, before remembering that that is him without the glamours and potions. He just stands there for a second, feeling every moment. _

_ A cry rings from the room, a baby cry. Harry walks over to see a little baby with a giant smile and soft green eyes. The child is a bit on the chubby side, and boats a head full of black wild hair. He cries, clutching a stuffed animal of a deer to his small chest. Harry tries to pick him up, only to shiver at the feeling of his hands passing through the baby. The baby stops crying, staring directly into Harry’s eyes. _

_ He stares at the baby for a short while, but Harry quickly grows bored, so he scours the room for something to entertain him. He finds a moving picture of James, Lily, and Harry Potter, believing it to be strange to have a celebrity’s picture in your baby’s room. He wonders if they think that will protect the kid from dark wizards. Even stranger is that he finds a picture of a young version of both of them, James Potter in his first few years of Hogwarts with a group of 3 other boys, and a primary school Lily Evans with a small version of, IS THAT SNAPE? _

_ A stirring of something outside brings Harry to the nearest window, peering to watch an odd scene unfolds. A thin and disturbing snake like man appears outside the small cozy home. The man looks like Voldemort from all those OLD pictures in history books, but it can’t be because Voldemort is dead. Harry marvels at how the man’s  magic danced around him in amusement, but a strange morbid feeling perforates throughout the whole display. A voice interrupted him before the man acts however. _

_ Harry hears the scene unfold with his ear pressed up against the window “Peter is that you?” Movement could be heard as scrambling behind the door. The voice was a charismatic smooth British accent, slightly deep but still peppy. _

_ “Peter you shouldn’t…” the door slammed open and the voice fell. Harry could see the new man with messy brown hair gaping rudely for a fraction of a second, as if he was seeing magic for the first time but it was brighter than the sun so he had to squint but still wanted to look. _

_ Harry barely hears a muttered “Crucio” from the snake like man, held with syllables like a snake talks, but Harry can hear it’s not in parseltongue. _

_ Horrifying screams could be heard echoing throughout the house, ones that would keep anyone with even half a soul up a night. Harry can barely see how the man with messy hair convulses on the floor, turning into a soft shake as the spell ended. Tear streaks and puffy eyes turned the face pitiful, the face characteristic of a weakling. _

_ “Lily! Get Harry and get out of here!” He screamed with his last ounce of strength, face weak and voice rough. A whisper of words, a blinding green light, a soft click heard in the distance. A woman with blinding red hair throws herself into the room Harry occupies, hunching over the crib with a protective stance. He recognizes her as Lily Potter, freezing him of any last inclination of movement. _

_ The stairs creaked as he ascended as the man headed towards a room bursting with magic, a song that sung in harmony with the wind the sea and the stars, a warm feeling that soothed and calmed. Quiet but strong underneath, misleading in it’s actions but true to it’s heart. The magic run a delicate gold, the song whispering messages of love, forgiveness, and motherhood. He knew it was meant to calm him, temper his anger, make him blissfully ignorant and receptive to its goals.  _

_ His soul sang out to it, desiring to be content and cared for, a song of guilt and tears. Weeping for anyone to save him, to love him like his mother was too weak to do. The mind overwhelmed the soul, bringing up memories of betrayal, hurt, and Tom Riddle. The insidious green of magic of the snake man overwhelmed that of the pretty song, suffocating it. It was even graceful in death wasn’t it, fading away like a pleasant dream. _

_ “Please spare him! Anyone, anything but Harry. Please!” The red woman pleaded as he stepped into the doorway. Harry stares incredulously at the baby he just realized is a young version of himself, wondering why the kid looks so much different than he. He looks back up at the snake man, finally accepting this person to be Voldemort, the boogeyman of the modern world. _

_ He asked her to step away three times before he snapped. Magic poured from his eyes and hands, ripping, mauling, killing, tearing apart the red woman until she was naught but a pile of twitchy meat on the floor. Not once did she scream, the only sound is magic dancing around her shaking form. A hummed sad tone jumped and mourned, playing at nonexistent heartstrings. The organs still move and breathe, she’s still alive. The snake man is feared for a reason after all, the soul can never escape her meat prison under his watch, and Harry can feel every thrash as the soul desperately tests it’s cage.. _

_ The babe awakens at the sound of a cold heartless laugh, tilting his head to see the newcomer. His soft green eyes inquisitive as only a small child can be. A vivid green light fills his eyes, but before it reaches him he is gone. Harry just stands there and gapes, gapes at the scene that made little baby Harry famous. _

_ His mother’s song burns left in the room to death as fearful anger, Harry hides in fear even though he does not truly exist in that place or moment. The soul and her magic furious at the loss of a special child. The tension builds quickly, coiling tightly  as a spring, but all at once it explodes. The pure burst of magic rips the souls from their mortal shells, banishing them. _

_ The song ends on a sad note as the babe reappears in the room as he’d never left. The room is dark, soothing the infant to sleep. The only evidence anything happened is the vivid green of the child’s eyes, luminescent in the dark, enchanting, so so very pretty. Harry looks at the faint light of HIS eyes seeping through the babe’s eyelids as the youngling slumbers. He spares naught a look for the convulsing pile of sated organs on the floor, not wanting the sight to be permanently burned to the back of his eyelids. _

_ “Harry, my beautiful baby boy, I’m so so sorry. Please don’t leave again.” A voice echoes from behind him, and he meets the face of Lily Potter. Compared to the form of her in life she is far more wispy, her eyes less of a soft green and more mechanical looking. Like a robot’s eyes. Harry takes a step back. _

_ “I am not your son, Miss. My name is Hadrian Evans.” The woman looks on the verge of tears at the hardened face of her only son, a son who denies her parentage. _

_ “Then my name is Lillian Evans, I am your mother. Please just, I regret what I said to you, I am so sorry. Nobody deserves that. I shouldn’t of said it, I’m so so sorry.”  Lillian tries to take a step forward, but Hadrian simply takes a step back. _

_ “But do you believe it?” All of the familiar chaotic energy has now left him, leaving him a cold and hardened husk, defensive to the very end. _

_ “No, never. No I don’t believe it. Please just, I just wanted you to be with me.” Lillian looks at him with tearful eyes, but the child looks back more stern and mature than the adult. _

_ “Then how can I hope to believe you now Lillian. We all choose who we want to be, right? And I choose wrong.” Hadrian mutters, spiteful and holding a hidden rage close to his chest. _

_ “Please just listen to me! My boy, my brave boy, please, I’m so proud of you, never forget that.” _

_ “I’m not brave Lillian, I am a Slytherin, I know how little you like those people, right? I saw a picture with you and Snape before Hogwarts, What’dya do? Dump him as a friend as soon as that hat shouted Slytherin?” _

_ “No Harr-Hadrian, you have it all wrong. I am so proud of you, It doesn’t matter if you’re in Slytherin.” _

_ “Lies.” _

_ “Harry PLEASE! I am Your Mother, I will love you no matter what. Please just listen to me.” _

_ “Y-” _

_ \----------------------------------------------Harry POV--------------------------------- _

“You aren't my mother,” I continue before I notice I’m being violently shaken awake.

“Yeah that’s right Evans, I’m not your mother.” Harry’s eyes open enough to see the bright orange mop of slicked back hair on his head, not even slightly bothering to contain the resulting snicker, Malfoy scorns. Harry fucked up, but he can think fast.

“If you aren’t my mother why are you waking my at the ass crack of dawn?” I mutter, pulling the scarf that threatens to fall off closer to my neck, today feels pink, I like pink. Malfoy throws me a slightly disappointed look, but I can’t tell if from the scarf or the cursing.

“It’s 8:30 Evans! Any self respecting wizard would be up by now. You were mumbling in your sleep. Charms is in an hour, I don’t want to lose any more house points.” I raise an eyebrow at him and stand up.

“Seems like an awful lot of excuses Malfoy, what’rya hiding?” Something rustles in Malfoy’s chest on the other side of the room, I look until Malfoy desperately tries to get my attention.

“Well I figured out that you're the one who turned my hair orange,” I absolutely lose it at that moment, rolling on the floor and laughing so hard my lungs burn. Malfoy glares at me.

In between deep laughs I manage to get out, “Seriously Malfoy? Ron figured it out on day fucking two! And you’re the smart one? I’m sorry I just can’t. YOU EVEN SAW HIS HAIR CHANGED BACK, OH. MY. GOD.” I stop for a brief moment to see Malfoy redder than his hair is orange, “YOU HAD THAT HAIR FOR A MONTH AND COULDN’T TELL IT WAS ME! I SIT AT A PART OF THE SLYTHERIN TABLE THAT IS COLOR CHANGED.” 

Malfoy clears his throat at me angrily, so I stop laughing eerily quickly to mess with him, “Evans, I know that you won’t change my hair back if there’s nothing in it for you, So I got you a gift.” Malfoy walks over to his chest and grabs something, hiding it in his robe sleeves before looking back at me.

Malfoy annoyedly gestures at his hair. I bask in the hilarity of his hair before finally cancelling the spell with a wave of my hand. Before I can react Malfoy plops something in my hands and power walks away with surprising grace.

“Malfoy you really didn-” The door to our shared dorm slams shut, which shuts me up as well. I look down at my hands to find I am holding a white and orange hamster. The hamster nibbles at my thumb softly, so I placed her on my shoulder where she perches in my hair.

_ I feel like such an asshole, should I give him back the hamster? _

**Hamsters cost like two knuts, this isn’t his hamster. Don’t give it back**

I sigh and look back at the hamster who is firmly lodged on my shoulder like a strange parrot, walking to the restroom to change into school robes.

\-----------------------------------------Hermione POV---------------------------------------

I am awaken from my charms textbook studying at the Slytherin table by loud gasps made from Fred and George. I rest the textbook on the now giraffe embroidered pink cloth of the good part of Slytherin’s table before looking up at the commotion.

The gasps are most likely due to the Ministry owls arrival in packs, dropping piles of fliers which magically distribute themselves to different students. I grab one out of the air and furiously read, 

 

**MINISTRY OF MAGIC OFFICIAL DECREE**

**WANTED: HADRIAN “HARRY” JAMES POTTER: ALIVE**

**THE MINISTRY IS RELEASING A BOUNTY ON THE MISSING CHILD H. POTTER OF 75,000 GALLEONS. THIS OPERATION IS LARGELY FUNDED BY THE PHILANTHROPIST AND POWERFUL POLITICAL FIGURE LUCIUS ABRAXAS MALFOY.**

**THE CHILD IS WANTED ALIVE, AND IF RETURNED DEAD THE RETURNER WILL BE CRIMINALLY CHARGED WITH MURDER IN ACCORDANCE TO THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC LAW.**

  1. **H POTTER WAS CONFIRMED ALIVE LAST WEDNESDAY BY THE HEAD GOBLIN AT GRINGOTTS BANK, WHO WHEN QUESTIONED SAID, “WE CAN CONFIRM THAT MR. POTTER’S ACCOUNTS ARE ACTIVE, AND THE OWNERSHIP HAS NOT BEEN ALTERED OR PASSED TO ANY OTHER. THOUGH WE ARE NOT PERMITTED TO SAY ANYTHING MORE IN ACCORDANCE TO OUR PRIVACY POLICIES WITH OUR CLIENTS”**



**WHEN ASKED FOR THE REASON OF FUNDING THE SEARCH, LORD MALFOY REPLIED, “THE WHOLE WORLD IS WORRIED ABOUT THE FATE OF OUR DEAR SAVIOR, AND I MERELY HAVE THE FUNDS TO HELP EASE OUR WORRIES. I AM HEAVILY CONCERNED ABOUT THE FATE OF MR. POTTER AS DEEPLY AS IF IT WERE MY OWN SON LOST.”**

 

I look at the already gathering groups of students, plotting on how to find the missing person. But I could care less and go back to the studying of my textbook.

 

-

 

Less than twenty minutes later somebody interrupts me again, “Hermione, C’mon! This bounty is worth like half as much as my house, we need to at least try!” Ron is followed by a group comprised of him, Lavender, Hannah, Seamus, Dean, and Percy. In the corner I hear Fred, George, and Lee Jordan furiously plotting about how to remove the competition.

“Ron, we need to leave this to the adults,” Ron scrunches his face, while the rest of the group. Percy looks the very picture of a bored chaperone.

“Yeah but we could find him, because we can think like him. And we have adult enough, Percy’s coming along.” Percy mumbles something about prefects.

“We can’t look for him while in school, he doesn’t go to Hogwarts. Eat your toast.” Ron looks annoyed and puffs up, Percy returns to the Gryffindor table in boredom.

“Yeah but Hermiiiiiooooooonnnnnnnneeeeee, what if he’s disguised as a student here!” Ron looks around furiously, his eyes catching on a Malfoy now lacking neon orange hair, “Look Malfoy has different colour hair! Maybe it’s him.”

“Ron that’s ridiculous, that’s how his hair was when we started the school year.” The rest of the hodge podge group leaves us to argue at each other, so Ron just resigns to eating his food at the Giraffe zone.

After a short time Harry walks over to us, mumbling quietly,

“What should I name you?”

“Weet Weet!”

“Weeties? Isn’t that a muggle cereal?”

“Weet! Weet!”

“Well if you insist…” Harry plops down on the seat next to me, but on the other side of Ron. I look over to see Harry with a hamster on his shoulder, nuzzled into the layers of robe and wrapped in strands of his hair. I say nothing as Harry quietly starts eating, but can’t help notice him half mindedly passing random foods back at the hamster.

“Hey Harry, is that a hamster?” Ron asks with his mouth full, causing me to flinch away. 

_ If Harry didn’t insist we hang out I would run so far away from Ron. _

“Her name is Weeties. She likes carrots.”

\-----

Harry sits down to me in charms, close enough that I can hear soft weeting coming from his scarf. When he smiles at me I smile back.

Professor Flitwick demonstrates the spell to the class, levitating Neville’s toad around the room to his confused annoyance. “Now remember to swish and flick like so.” He watches as everyone moves to pick up their wands.

I watch Harry levitate his feather through the air before anybody even picks up their wands, but he hasn’t picked up his wand either. Flitwick looks at him then walks over to us. Fearing he is coming over to take house points I take up my wand and start to practice.

“Mr. Evans, Use your wand, 5 points from Slytherin.” Flitwick walks over and looks at Harry, he sheepishly levitates his leather back onto the desk.

Harry quiets, “I’m sorry professor I can’t.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Evans,  Practice is what we’re here for. Just swish and flick.” He motions until Harry picks up his want, “Yes, just like that, Swish and Flick.”

Harry holds his wand, “Wingardium Leviosa!” he shouts. I watch as the feather hovers very softly above the table for a blink of an eye, before rocketing through the ceiling. Flitwick looks up in a mix of horror and surprise as Harry mumbles, “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Practice until you get it, you will eventually Mr. Evans!” Flitwick says, placing another feather on Harry’s dsk to replace the one which went through the roof. Harry just huffs, looking at me with a ‘save me’ sort of look.

  
  


Before the end of the class I have been successful, Ron and Seamus destroyed their feathers with fire, Harry put another seven through the roof, and one through the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems unpolished, I'm having a bit of trouble writing this chapter and decided better now then never.


	16. Halloween pt. 2

\--------------------------------------Hermione POV------------------------------------

“You can go Hermione, I’ll pack up my stuff and catch up to you.” Harry murmurs, staring betrayed at his wand. He holds it softly, then waves it slightly. 

“Ok Harry, I’ll go on ahead.” I sling my bag over my shoulder before running to the door, almost running into a scowling Ron Weasley. I look over to see that Ron is glaring at Malfoy.

“You have to join the ‘Harry Potter: Saviors for the Savior Initiative’ Hermione, you’re like the smartest person in the school!” I purse my lips at Ron, but he just looks at me conspiratorially.

“Harry’s smarter than me Ron, he does all the spells faster than me.” Ron dramatically rolls his eyes at me.

“Yeah but Harry’s a nutcase, I showed him scabbers once when we were in the great hall and he told me the rat’s name is Peter. Like he must’ve cast a spell on him too because he flipped out and tried to run away! Took me weeks to calm him down, I mean honestly!”

“If you’re going to look for somebody to accuse of being Harry Potter, maybe try the kid in our year named Harry. He’s obviously not, but don’t go accusing Malfoy of being Harry Potter when you know Malfoy’s parents.” I humm at Ron, but he just looks confused.

“Wait, wait, do you think he’s Harry Potter in disguise?” Ron seems to have a sort of epiphany, then takes out the sheet with the bounty on it. On each bounty there are two pictures attached, one of a baby and one of a yearbook. Ron plucks the yearbook picture from the back of the sheet. Ron seems to stare at it, as if he can’t understand why it isn’t a moving picture.

Harry seems to appear behind us in a quick moment, I have gotten used to him sneaking up at me but obviously Ron hasn't as Ron flinches so hard he drops his flier. “Who is secretly Harry Potter in disguise? Like isn’t he dead, are you looking for a corpse or something?”

“Harry Potter is alive! Look, here, a bounty was just sent for him this morning.” Harry is handed the sheet Ron just picked up from the ground, eyebrows pinched. Harry shows a minute frown for just a moment before his face is molded back to neutral with eyebrows raised.

“Damn Ron, that is a lot of money.” Something feels off about how Harry is acting, I can’t pinpoint it but Ron doesn't notice it at all, “You said you think Harry Potter is a student, who do you think he is? Why would he even hide at Hogwarts?” I notice a very slight tenseness and shaking from Harry.

“It’s sooo much money Harry, like I’m surprised this isn’t bankrupting the Malfoys. It’d serve them right if this makes them poor.” Harry grimaces at that comment, before placing the note back in Ron’s hands. I notice how the tassels of Harry’s scarf are changing color.

I speak up, if only to calm Harry down, “Ron said that you might be the disguised Harry Potter. It’s wrong of course, but I suggested that Ron should accuse you before accusing Malfoy, and he kinda stuck with the idea.” I go into mumbles by the end, looking up expecting to see a comforting look from Harry like always, but he just looks unnerved.

“It’s not me, just a coincidence that my parents named my Hadrian, which shortens to Harry. It’s a stupid idea to look for Harry Potter, If they could find him wouldn’t they already’ve now? He’s got aurors on his trail, doesn’t he? Need I remind you that we’re eleven?” Harry looks very slightly off kilter, and is talking strangely fast.

“Harry’s right Ron, what are eleven year olds in comparison to highly trained magic police? We shouldn’t even bother, focus on your studies Ron.” I throw a small smile at Harry, and he throws a calm look back.

“Yeah but we have to try, We should go find him.” Ron shouts this, drawing the attention of many of the people in the hall with us, our fellow first years try to eavesdrop but the upper years just look annoyed. Malfoy snickers with his two goons at his sides, but stops quickly once Harry looks his way.

“No, we should go to potions. What would you do anyways, put all the students at wand point and scream ‘I know you’re Harry Potter’, to see how they’d react? You should have a plan  _ at least. _ ” Ron glares at Harry, resulting in Harry very obviously rolling his eyes at Ron.

“Yeah just like you slimy Slytherins to always need a plan!”

“Honestly Ron, I’d rather be cunning with my planning efforts.” He meets Ron’s near growl, “Jeez, calm down, courage is also really important, but it’s wasted without a plan.” Harry sighs, shifting his school bag on his shoulder, “Go ahead to potions, I have to pick up a book from the library, I'll meet you there.” He turns to walk away but not before I shout to regain his attention.

“You’ll be late Harry! Snape will deduct house points.”

“I think you may have forgotten that I’m not in Gryffindor, every point I lose is practically one you gain. And I care little for the rules anyway, I’d advise you do that too.” And with that, Harry Evans turns around where we came from, blending into the hallways as if he was the most average student there.

“Yeah Hermione, we need to beat Slytherin in the house cup, not help them.”

\--

“Harry, we already finished our potion what are you-” In front of Harry is a small cauldron that we didn’t use during class, he scrapes certain things off the table and takes from his robes to dump into them. Harry has a new book opened and is reading it at the same time as adding more ingredients, when I talk he looks up to me, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh” His green eyes glint with mischief, his nimble fingers continue to add things when he doesn’t look. For some reason Professor Snape hasn’t come over here to shut down this whole sketchy operation. Over in the corner of the room Neville almost adds something to his potion, which Snape seems to notice, levitating it so It doesn’t fall in the cauldron.

“5 points from Gryffindor Mr. Longbottom, for almost adding an ingredient that would blow the whole room to smithereens, we would have had to scrape your body off of the ceiling.” Nevile squeaks in fear, blanching in the sight of his potion, which he warily pushes slightly farther away from himself.

“Won’t this get house points removed? You might even get detention!” I whisper in his ear, stressing the word detention because detentions go on one’s permanent record. Harry just snorts, nearly dropping something he didn’t mean to into the potion, to which he mouths a foul curse.

“Thought we’d already gone over this ‘mione,” I can’t decide between bristling or reveling in the nickname, “We both benefit, I get house points removed so Slytherin is behind Gryffindor, and If I get detention you finally get to see your delinquent friend suffer for breaking all of the worldly laws.”

“You are breaking the school rules, not some worldly laws. I still care about you Harry, I don't want you to break the rules.” I rest my hand on his shoulder, trying to show him I care, but Weeties bites my finger.

“But what If I am breaking worldly laws? How do you know I’m not? What do you do then.” Harry dips his finger into the potion before I can stop him, sticking the finger in his mouth, “Does this taste like lemons? It should not taste like lemons.”, he mutters this so quietly I can barely hear.

I stare at the potion, watching as It bubbles suddenly bright pink, “I should tell a teacher Harry, that doesn’t look too good.”, Harry looks at me disappointed, then mutters something while waving his hands over .,..

“What would you do if I broke the worldly laws?” Harry mutters, engrossed in his book, talking to me, and taking something out of his robes to pour it. I sigh.

“What even are the worldly laws Harry? Certainly not the laws of physics, as magic goes and makes those all insignificant. Are you talking about the laws of the wizengamot? Because If you broke those then you’d just be a criminal. If you were a criminal then I would have to report you to the government.” Harry grimaces, then bites his lip.

“Just forget about it Hermione, ok?” I move to respond, but the bell stops all the sound that I make, I give up , packing up all my books and parchment, along with my completed boils cure that Professor Snape let me keep.

When I look around Harry is completely gone.

-

I sit down at the Gryffindor table for the first time in weeks, feeling more alone than I have in months. I would have sat down at the Slytherin table with Harry, but it is the Halloween feast, and I am simply not … Harry …. Enough to sit at another table during the big feasts. Ron is loudly chattering away with Seamus, talking about the recent games involving the Chudley Cannons.

The Great Hall is decked out with pumpkins and candles for the big feast, fake spiderwebs and skeletons, along with the very real ghosts. When the food arrives, I can hear the reverberating scolding my parents about eating this many sweet’s impact on my dental health. I grab the most food looking item, a tiny roasted pumpkin, and try to eat, but Ron's older twin brothers sit next to me.

“Look Forge!” The first one shouts, pointing at me from my left side.

“Look Gred!”  The other shouts from my right side, flailing his arms in jazz hands

“An ickle firstie!” They both proclaim in unison, smiling like little demons.

“Why are you here?” I ask, biting into the strange roasted pumpkin, before noticing that this is a strange inverted pumpkin pie. It tastes alright, so I eat it even though I never eat sweets before true food regularly.

“We noticed that someone”

“Has turned another firsties’ hair”

“White”

“I stare at them in confusion, before remembering what happened this morning. “That was Malfoy, his hair is naturally white.” I point at Malfoy, chatting at the head of the Slytherin table.

“Forge, it can’t” The left one says in mock surprise, putting his hands to his cheeks like the scream.

“Has ickle Ronniekins” Ron lifts his head to look at us upon hearing his name, then turning bright red.

“Bamboozled us?”

“No?!”

“Malfoy’s hair was turned neon orange for two whole months, he hated it.” I say trying to retain a chuckle, the twins just smile.

“Tell us”

“Who did it?” They ask, staring at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Harry Evans did it, he’s a short Slytherin with black hair. He wears scarves.” I say this, and the twins share the conspiratorial look that i’ve seen pass Harry’s features so many times. The twins bow at me, settling into the seats that they have decided to keep.

Everyone goes quiet when the doors bust open, Professor Quirrell manages to run in, before screaming out, “Troll! Troll in the dungeons!”, the Professor promptly falls unconscious on the floor.

The prefects move to evacuate everyone, calling all the Gryffindor students into a large line that leaves in a giant mega group out of the great hall. The different groups move to split up almost immediately,  but a hand stops me from moving to the line back to the common rooms. I look back to see a roughly third year with brown hair and eyes, he is looking quite distressed. I vaguely remember Harry talking to this boy during the opening speech, but not much else.

He looks me directly in the eyes, “Where is Harry?” He stands up fuller scanning the Slytherin group, I do as well, but I don’t see Harry, and clearly neither does he.

“I-uh don’t know. I last saw him during potions” I sputter out, catching enough of his distress to feel absolutely horrible about not thinking about my friend during this danger.

“Do you know where he might have gone?” He asks this distressed, but still kind. I try to think of where he might be, but the panic and anxiety just overwhelms my mind so much it is like I am being suffocated, I can’t think no matter how much I want to. I just shake my head.

We stand there in panic for a few moments, before Cedric loudly gasps, “I know!” He loudly shouts, pulling out his wand from his pocket to la it flat on his palm. “Point me, Harry Evans.” The wand points down a corridor, so Cedric immediately starts off that way.

“We should get a teacher!” I shout, but when I look around the hallway has already emptied of everybody but us, Cedric has started walking (quickly, but slow enough that his wand doesn't fall off of his hand) already, so I jog to keep up with him.

“There’s no time!” He shouts, walking even quicker with a surprising grace. After a few minutes we get close enough to see the end of this long passageway, but the passage is covered by a large troll that is looking away, too far to see properly.

Cedric bolts closer, running with hysteria and what seems like not even a shred of a plan, so I follow. Each second that passes, we get closer, we see more details of the scene.

 

The club is on the ground.

 

The troll is not standing.

 

The troll is bloody.

 

The ceiling is bloody.

 

There are bloody masses on the ground.

 

Those masses are the troll’s organs.

 

The troll is still crawling.

 

The troll is crawling at something.

 

That something is being more and more trapped against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the Halloween act ends with three parts only, I can't really think so It's more helpful right now to write short chapters in place of longer ones. I hope all of you like this! I'm sorry that alot of my focus has been put on my other fic 'you still have good in you tom', but I had sudden inspiration for that and couldn't really do anything but write it for a while. If anyone wants to comment, go ahead I love to read those! Sorry that I anxiety too much to know how to respond to most of them!


	17. Halloween pt 3

Cedric and I stand at the feet of the troll, I get a horrible feeling that whatever the troll is crawling at is alive, but Cedric acts beofre I do, loudly shouting, “GET OVER HERE YOU BIG STUPID TROLL! LOOK TASTY HUMAN!” He screams, grabbing the attention of the troll. He waves his arms, suddenly staring at the face of the troll, a horrifying face of broken teeth and missing eyes. It starts to drag it’s giant body towards us, missing both kneecaps.

“Cedric we should run!” I scream, the troll twisting its giant scarred face towards mine, pus and blood dripping from the giant holes where eyes should be. The skull has giant dents in it, facing outwards, the torso is covered in holes that look like bullet wounds, but the splatter is outwards, the chest cavity looks so empty. I look behind the troll for any sign of Harry, but all that is there is a giant pile of the organs and blood, dripping.

He stares at the troll, “Wait for it.” The troll inches closer, “Wait for it.” the troll gets within smelling distance, filling the room with an iron like musky scent. Cedric pushes me behind him, “Bombarda!” He screams, a large explosion bouncing off of the giant creature in front of us, shattering the ceiling above us instead. A look of pure terror passes across his face before everything goes to hell and back.

Assorted rocks and candles fall down on us, but Cedric pushes me out of the way before I get hit. He tries to push himself to his feet, but the troll grabs him, pulling him across the floor with him powerless to stop it. I watch in horror as the troll knocks Cedric against the floor so hard that his wand slips out of his grip, accompanying a crunch like newspaper but far more wet.

The troll chucks Cedric, like a small child skipping rocks, and my mind goes blank. In the very last second before Cedric would impact the cold marble floor neck first, everything goes clear. “WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!” I scream, narrowly catching Cedric, but not without using considerable force in the process, and he doesn’t look very … conscious. 

I run over, noting the bloody forehead, trying to press on it to stop the bleeding anymore than it already has. I desperately try to wrap the remnants of his sleeve around his forehead to use as a makeshift bandage, but the wound just keeps bleeding. He is still breathing, he still has a pulse, but he isn’t moving. I only hear the heart beating in my ears, I only see the blood on his forehead, everything is going wrong. Cedric’s eyes open the smallest bit, I almost weep for joy, but something seems wrong.

“Look up.” He whispers, wincing and closing his eyes again from the pain, his whole body tensing. I look up, meeting the gaze of a troll, mouth open and coated in sticky clotted black fluid. Crimson juice drips out of his eye holes, mixing with the mouth liquids. Teeth hang out by strings, rocking back and forth periodically like a pendulum. Maggots migrate from the tongue to other parts of his mouth, leaving the giant red muscle as covered in holes as swiss cheese, but leaking yellow pus.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ I’m going to die here,  _

  
  
  
  


_ Cedric will die here _

  
  
  
  
  


_ Harry has or will die here _

  
  
  


The troll smashes it’s bloody fist down on my leg as I try to crawl away, shattering all the bones in my left leg into little shards like glass. The giant green fist starts to swing on my head, but I can’t move my left leg, making me slow and pained. The fist swings down, covered in my shattered bones, but stops right above my head.The troll suddenly looks somewhere else, slowly lumbering away from our prone forms.

I feel myself being levitated, looking around to see Harry trying to shush me. Cedric and I are hovering above the ground still, so Harry grabs us, dragging out weightless states as he runs. Harry seems weird, and I notice it is because his eyes are pitch black, with a sort of fog dusting around them.I look back on the troll, to see it being eaten by a very large orange hamster, either dead or unconscious on the floor where we just left.

 

_ Am I hallucinating? Am I dead? _

 

\----------------------------Minerva POV--------------------------

 

“I don’t know where the troll is Pomona.” I look around, but the dungeons are blank, no sign of any troll around here whatsoever, “Do you think Quirinus was lying?” I look around, searching for any sign of a troll, any smell or magical residue.

Pomona walks farther out of the dungeons, eyes and wand to the floor when she suddenly shouts, “Minerva, I found troll tracks! Over here!” Pomona gestures, showing me the entrance of a large secret passage that leads to the great hall. Giant dusty footprints litter the floor behind the tapestry, facing towards the other end. For some strange reason none of the footprints are outside of the tapestry, perhaps this is one prank from the Weasley twins.

“That doesn’t look good Pomona, I’m glad we found the tracks. We should go get the troll before anything catastrophic happens.” I step out near the main hall, “Sonorous” I mutter, my voice becoming deafening to my own ears, “TROLL TRACKS HAVE BEEN FOUND, IN A PASSAGEWAY LEADING TO THE GREAT HALL!”, the other teachers perk up, running to follow Pomona and me down the passageway.Severus and Quirinus follow us down the passageway.

The passageway ends in a portrait that swings open to the entrance of the great hall, but a few hallways down. A deep stench can be smelled from here, along with a strange scrabbling noise.

 

_ Something is not right here _

 

I start to run to the source, trusting my well honed battle instincts to lead me along the path of the tracks, hearing the faint footsteps of the other professors echo behind me. The stench grows stronger, and my gut feels worse, everything feels worse.

We ran until we nearly hit somebody when turning around the corner, I try to look down at the kid but something is stopping me. The kid seems to be coated in a very strong notice-me-not charm, which I quickly cancel. I don’t look down at the child yet, too enraptured with the macabre scene in front of my own eyes.

A giant fully grown mountain troll lies dead, organs strewn around the room in a giant bloody mess. The heart is black as coal, still pumping even now. Everything is covered in the ruins of the ceiling, which has exploded, leaving rock everywhere. Over the body of the troll is an enormous hamster, quickly shrinking, which has torn large holes in the skin, though not all of the holes seem to be bite marks. Bodily fluids of the troll leak out of it’s every orphus, coating the hallway in a thin layer of pus, over a thick layer of crimson.

Words seem to be pouring from my lips before I even look down at the children, “What do you think you were doing! Taking on a fully grown mountain troll, you could have gotten …” I look down at the children to see injuries littering them all. 

Harry Evans is the only one standing, though he seems to be breathing irregularly, what looks like a small piece of bone is sticking out of his chest. Evans is coated in gallons upon gallons of blood, and is sporting many small to enormous gashes. He seems to be levitating the other two, dragging them out of danger.

Hermione Granger is seemingly unconscious, or mostly there. She has obvious signs of head trauma, and is coated in cuts and bruises. Her entire left leg hangs limp, a horrific flat crushed look as if it has no bones, it is bleeding intensely.

Cedric Diggory is also unconscious, but far more so than Hermione. He is covered in scorch marks, cuts, and rocks indented in his skin. His whole right arm looks as if it was used as a beater’s stick, battered and bent out of place. But the most worrying of all is enormous head gash above his left eye, makeshift bandaged but leaking an alarming amount of blood.

 

_ How did this happen? _

 

\---

 

“Are you sure that the first years did, that, Minerva? What if it was Cedric?” Albus says with a frown, looking at the hospital beds with each of the students in them. 

“I’m sure Albus, the only one awake at the end was Evans. His hamster has been returned to normal size and him, so we know he finally killed it off. But I don’t know who did the … dismembering part of the encounter.” I look over to the students, noticing that Harry Evans is stirring, “Evans I know you’re awake.”

“May we ask you some questions young Harry?” Albus says, in a kind grandfatherly voice while walking closer to Evans.

“Yes headmaster.” He mutters, fiddling with the sheets, then noticing his hamster, proceeding to pet it. It curls into a little orange ball under his hand.

“What caused the organs to be, out of the troll?” I ask, watching as the child’s expression looks sheepish, and somewhat scared.

“Well, uh, I levitated the organs out of its body, I thought that it would work. My levitation charm was too powerful in charms, and I couldn't think of anything else.” He mutters, curling inwards.

“Why were you not back in your dorms?” I ask.

“We were supposed to go back to our dorms?” He gasps , surprised, “I was going to the bathroom, when I got out there was a troll there already. Hermione and Cedric came to rescue me, but they got more hurt than I did.”

Albus looks at us softly, “Well, You showed might bravery for a Slytherin young man. Twenty points to Slytherin for defeating the troll, with magical strength impressive for first years. Twenty points to both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for caring and courage.” Albus smiles, “I will leave you to rest young man.” Albus leaves, I move to as well, but stop as I remember.

“Me. Evans, why did you have a strong notice-me-not charm on yourself. You do know that if applied to strong people will notice you less, you will become invisible. You don’t want that to happen.” I purse my lips, feeling slightly bad as the child’s eyes droop, “How did you achieve a charm like that, it is a third year charm.”

“I-h was reading a book on it, and I didn’t want the troll to notice me. But it didn’t work.” He breathes in, “Are Cedric and Hermione ok?” He asks, looking around for his scarf to hide his neck scar.

“They are doing well,” I say with a calm smile, “I’ll leave you to your sleep.” He nods, and I leave quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter's kinda short, hope it's ok!


	18. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't get his peace after he fights the troll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating in so long! But Ill try to update more often now.

\------------------ Harry POV-------------------------

The sun shines through the window and onto my tired eyes, rousing me from my sleep. It’s surprisingly peaceful, with the warmth of the sheets, the warm ball of fluff that is Weeties, the solid wrap of a scarf around my neck. Sitting up I find the same vision as when I fell asleep, with madame Pomphrey in the corner of the room hovering over the beds that I know belong to Cedric and Hermione.

**Why bother lie to us, it’s not like they’re subtle**

She doesn’t look at me, so I grab the clothes near my bed and head to the bathroom to change, moving with the silence of light. Marked scars litter my lithe chest, fading almost perceptible to the human eye, but in the mirror I can see the giant gash across my left eye still as red and angry as it was last night. I dress dark, hoping to have eyes averted from my generally dark form.

**You look, grizzled. Are the others ok? Not that I care, but I would rather not have our hard won allies die.**

I draw shadows around me but do not travel, I care for my surprisingly vicious little ally after all, to hurry through to the great hall. A few ghosts look my way -as they always do- but nothing else comes into contact with me. The halls are surprisingly quiet, so I throw up a tempus.

7:14 AM

Nobody notices as I slip into the halls, nobody looks my way as I sit down at the far end of the Slytherin table. Few people little the great hall along with me, A few tired seventh years sit at the end of the Gryffindor table, a group of ravenclaws engage in active discussion, the hufflepuff table is empty, and the only one who shares the slytherin table with me is studying. 

Snape walks in with a slight limp, and glares at Quirrell ever so slightly. McGonnagall, Mrs. Sprout, and Dumbledore are noticeably absent.

**We can’t just ignore the weird shit that’s been going on ‘round here. Who let a troll into the school, why is Snape limping, C’mon Harr, listen to me!**

I shovel a small amount of bland food onto my plate, and place a few carrots in my bag, scarf, and pockets .I feel the warm snuggle of fur against my scarred neck. The room seems eerily silent, but something pushes at the barriers of my mind, i, I-h don’t want to let it in even if it takes the last bit of my lively effort. A blind unthinking panic crashes around me, breaking all of the glasses on this side of the Slytherin table.

_ What was that!  _

**See, we need to act.**

Quirrell is looking at me, Snape is looking at me, every other student in the room is looking at me, but do they even know who I am? After a few tense moments of silence the glasses on the table reset themselves, and the gazes fade from me. All but Snape.

_ Something was at the barriers. _

**Maybe it was whatever TRIED TO KILL US, GET YOUR GOSH DARNED PRIORITIES STRAIGHT**

_ Something was at the barriers _

I stand up to leave, hurrying me and the furious squeaking Weeties to the door. The walk takes forever, and before I reach the hall the door opens in my face. The smiling faces of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in full outfits stare right back at me.

“Oh look Forge!” 

“Just the firstie that we’ve been looking for!”

**Huh, these look like Ron’s brothers. But why is Snape limping? Did he help subdue the troll that we left to Weeties, or did he do something more dastardly?**

“We want to officially invite you into the Saviors for the Savior” The left one says, a giant grin on his face. He walks over to me and places a hand on my right shoulder.

“And ask you about that troll, did you really fight it or was ickle Malfoy telling fibs?” The right one says, standing at my left shoulder. The rest of the gryffindor team looks at me confused.

_ I don’t know Ankoku, what would we even do if we found anything out? Kill the teacher, report them, do something utterly stupid? We have our lives on the line, if they find out that I was Potter, then the killer will try again. _

**Woah, Woah calm down, it’s not like anything is wrong.**

“Yeah that was me.” I say coldly, hoping it will scare them off but the rest of the team just beams even more, “And no, for the last time I will not join the club. I have no interest in looking for a random kid that the magic police can’t even find.”

“Harry Potter was not just some random kid!” Shouts Katie Bell, and her eyes look angry. “Look I know you slimey slytherins want nothing to do with the light side” She seethes, and tries to calm herself down, the other chasers silently trying to push her to the back of their group. I back up a bit, but end up just hitting one’s arm.

“Don’t bully first years” I hear Angelina Johnson whisper to Katie, but she looks no less angry than before.

**Uh Harr, maybe we should distance ourselves from Potter a little less obviously**

_ I am no savior that people need to worry over, the most interesting thing is my net worth. _

“I’m no stuffy pureblood, no matter what people assume. Why would I support a system that would make me a second class citizen? Do they not still kill muggleborns?” I calmly state, before looking back up to the twins standing behind me, “If you want to ask me about the Troll, I’d rather sit down first.”

**You’re just plain wrong, Shadow powers anyone?**

_ It’s not like they know that. _

Katie Bell looks a little sheepish, but Angelina steps forward, asking, “Why do you think the boy-who-lived is just some kid. He survived the unsurvivable.” I sit down at the nearest table -The Gryffindor table- and look up at the group, the twins sit down on either side of me, and the rest of the team around me as well.

**I thought that we didn’t want attention.**

_ From everyone else I’ve seen, ignoring it would be weirder. _

“I think that if anything kept the baby alive, it would have been one of the magical parents. What would a baby do, lie there?” The majority of the people focus on eating food while lending an ear to me, but the twins watch me with rapt unnerving attention, “And what are your names?” I ask the twins, and they just smile.

**Yes but we are more the loner type, I don’t think people expect us to want attention.**

_ Too late to go back now. _

“I’m Fred.” The right one says.

“I’m George.” The other states.

“Why wouldn’t you help us to get the reward?” Asks Angelina, with a quirked eyebrow, “Even if this kid didn’t survive the killing curse on his own.”, Fred nods.

**It would be a good cover if we were in the club to find you**

_ I guess, but wouldn’t they pay attention to me as well? _

“I guess I’ll think about it.” I mumble, looking down at the table, petting Weeties, the others cheer quietly.

“Tell us about the troll now,” Fred whispers, “What was it like?” the others seem to pay attention to me now, and I can feel the eyes and ears of people from other tables settles solely on me.

“Big, Bad, Smelly.” I breathe in and hold my hand on Weeties, “His teeth were rotted and decayed, his tongue almost more maggots than tongue. Puss flowed out of what seemed like his pores as if it was sweat, tinged with some sort of black rot. You could smell him around corners, something that seemed to pull an almost corporeal form in the air.” I feel myself breathing faster, “He had this giant club that he liked to swing around, it was strong enough to break the stone of the Hogwarts floors. He was big and green, such anger that you wanted to scream and run away from when It came into your field of vision.” I breathe in loudly, fighting back a small sting in my eyes, “He would rumble the ground when he walked, and leaving behind bloody footprints that would attract flies that seemed to fall out of the troll itself. The eyes were missing, leaving only the pits that you thought would accompany you to the gates of Hell. He wanted to kill us for a reason that I don’t know if even he understood, but he seemed to want it more than anything.”

**I wouldn’t join it, but will you? It’s ok, calm down, it’s in the past. The troll can’t hurt you now Harr.**

_ I know, to both _

“How did you kill it?” Angelina mumbles, and I look up to see such attentive eyes. More people than were even in the great hall when I had entered were crouded around me, people of all of the years, but I could recognise Percy, Ron, Lilith, and Malfoy. Malfoy seemed to be looking at me concerned.

“I had help, I would have died if Hermione and Cedric didn’t try to save me. A troll is no joke. It was pinning me to the wall while I punched holes through the body, leaving me with no chance to escape. Then they showed up, and the troll looked away, I thought they were teachers who knew what they were doing so I ran around the troll. But when I was trying to escape someone caved in the ceiling, which caused Cedric to be passed out, and Hermione desperately trying to resuscitate him. I levitated them both, using my last strength to pull them to safety when we met the teachers.” Everyone is quiet, “I don’t know what happened after that.”

“Merlin Hadrian.” I hear Malfoy mutter, staring at me with concern that I didn’t know he was capable of.

“How’s Cedric?” Lilith whispers, looking at me with tears in her eyes and clutching her hands to her sides. 

“He’s still in the hospital wing.” I hear myself say, but it seems so very distant. Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of red and a sort of light glow, but when I look over it isn’t there.

**Was that Lillian?**

_ I don’t want it to be. _

**Do you still plan on talking to Geth?**

_ Yes, I need to find out How though _

“That’s so cool!” I hear Ron shout, and look over to him as he flashes a sort of hero worship on his face, “You should join us in trying to find Harry Potter, I hope he’s as cool as you are when we finally meet him!”

“I think I will Ron. Sign me up”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions, and comments? I absolutely love reading them


	19. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry Finally learn to cooperate really for the first time, but does this bode well for Draco's Father's view of him, will the family approve of the new freindship?

\--------------------December 5: Draco POV------------------

I wake up as the soft light passes through the haze of the great lake, a green that nicely accents the green and black aesthetic of the room. Moving gracefully I pick out the proper uniform and move to the restroom to change, sparing a slight glance to the sleeping face of my one and only roommate. 

_ I need to make friends-allies-, father would be so disappointed in me if I didn’t return home with at least one connection. _

When I return, Hadrian is still deep in slumber, so I sit down to write up my paper on the dangers of dragons, and how to properly protect oneself from the deadly flame as best one can in first year. I look back up when I hear the rustling and banging coming from the other side of the room.

Hadrian’s eyes are closed, with his eyes scrunched and buried in the sheets, a simple black scarf snugly secured around his neck. He breathes heavily and moves enough to disrupt the enormous pile of blankets precariously stacked on his small form. I walk over to him and gently shake him awake, if not to stop his pained movements to quiet his incoherent murmurs.

“I AM Hadrian Evans.” He mumbles, sleepily and forceful, but then he looks up at me while rubbing his eyes. It’s strange to see Hadrian the only time of the day where he isn’t coated by a mysterious blanket of grace, and he just looks like a random kid. Normally expertly smoothed hair fluffs up into a strange bird’s nest, he has rubbed his eyes enough that they are red and puffy, a small cut of some sort can be barely seen poking out of the hair on his forehead, and his sleep clothes are rumpled.

“Yes you are.” I say fondly to my almost friend, but it quickly fades, “It’s time to get up now Hadrian,” I spare a quick look to the clock that reads 8:20, “breakfast has begun, so you better get ready.”

“It’s A Saturday!” He groans, “Are you still going to wake me up like this on weekends.” He looks at me funny, “Or are you still trying to be all buddy buddy with me?” He groggily mumbles, pulling a carrot out of a bag in his bedside drawer and feeding it to the hamster I gave him -Weeties was it that Hadrian named her-, “Trying to convince me that I’m some pureblood? Is that why you’re being nice to me, cause shucks for you. All the weird pureblood connections you’d get is to a bar owner or something.” 

_ I can’t justify making friends with him under a strategic standpoint, then why do I still want to so badly? _

“That's not why I’m trying to be friends with you Hadrian.” I breathe in and look at his aristocratic features, inky black hair of so many wizard families, faint Veela like features, strong magical power, grace and manners that must have been taught to him, not to mention distinct magical power. His hair looks like a Potter’s, his cheekbones look like a Black’s, his jawbone and faint ears of a Veela, the build of a gaunt, the eyes of a peverell, the smile of a malfoy, the magic of a Lestrange. I settle for the featureless, “But you must be of wizard descent, how else would you have the grace, the culture, or even the ability to hold a quill.”

“You can get those by being raised by someone magical. I’m nothing special, just raised by a muggle born witch.” He says curtly, practically floating to the door of the restroom with a pile of robes draped on his left arm.

“So you aren’t muggleborn, if your mom was muggle born then you’re a halfblood.” I exclaim with a strange sense of happiness, when he returns a few moments later and sits back onto his bed.

_ My father looks at me in the eyes, but turns them to glare at the prim and proper woman sitting near me, my newest teacher _

_ “Get out of here before you teach my son any more of that drivel.” He drones on in the most terrifying but monotone drawl that captures what makes Purebloods what they are. My back straightens as he says that, my hands going into the position that is seen as polite for a formal dinner before the food has arrived. _

_ “Sir, but do you not even want us to teach the culture to muggleborns? They have as much magic as you and I?” She sternly corrects in a mix of rights activist and blindly repeating ministry drone. _

_ “Get out!” He growls, and she quickly up and flees, not even paying a cursory glance to the house elves that she would greet as she walked down the halls normally. I sit there silently in the picture of perfect obedience that would hurt me in the center of my bones to break, after my father slowly calms down he sits down where she sat, an intimidating figure. _

_ “This is what I get for hiring new pure blood, cursed muggle blood still infects even if it was  _ _ ONLY _ _ her great grandmother who was a merlin damned mudblood.” His magic prickles around me, making my hands tense as they always do for as long as I can remember. Father’s magic hurts when it wraps around me, Mom-Mother’s smells like lavender and feels like pillows, “Maybe I can get Miss Cassandra Black to teach you, they taught manners better in the Dark Lord’s childhood. None of these silly muggle activists.” _

_ “Then what are we supposed to do with mug-mudbloods Father?” I ask politely, visions of Mistress Lovegood smiling, whispering ‘Muggles are just like you and me, even if your father doesn’t want you to know that’. _

_ “Kill them, they bring their culture of debauchery and lack of manners to us, and the ministry goes head over heels to cater to their interests instead of the ones we wizards know are superior. At Least don’t let their filthy blood into our society.” _

_ “What about the half-bloods?” I find myself asking, the ingrained instincts screaming at my curiosity for disobeying them. _

_ “Just as awful.” _

“She wasn’t my mom, she was my aunt.” He moves to the door, all of the strangely endearing flaws hidden behind a trademark slytherin mask.

“Would you be opposed to being friends with me?” I choke out on impulse, and he looks at me with strangely quirked eyebrows, his scarf changes a few colors.

“Friends, or allies?” He states, without looking back at me.

“Friends.” I say in a disbelieving tone, causing him to look back at me with a giant childlike grin on his face.

“Ok.” He smiles warmly, but the rapidly changing colors on his scarf seems out of place, “Then you’ll come with me to the Saviors for the Savior Club!” he walks over and grabs my hand, I just nod and follow along, it being a Saturday and all. He flashes me a few disbelieving looks while he drags me all of the way to a sitting room near the great hall.

We open to a large room, teaming with dozens of people. Most of them are first years like us -and most of those either gryffs of puffs-, but there is the entire gryff quidditch team. People seem to be moving around in cliques, talking about random gossip and such unseemly things for wizards such as muggle tech - _ Listen More, Know what is not to be known. Break Father’s rules! _ \- but we barely spend a moment near these people before having our ears practically broken by the deafening quidditch talk.

“This is a lot more serious than I was expecting Hadrian.” I whisper, eyeing the binders full of notes and stocked bookshelves. I read some of the titles, with such masterpieces such as  _ The Top Witches and Wizards of Our Era _ , and  _ A Gossipy Witches’ guide to family traits; Are they a child of affair? _ .

“Yeah they have a contract and everything, the person who actually finds him gets 15k of the galleons, the other 50k are evenly split among everyone else.” The group of people are disorganized, but when Oliver Wood stands up they seem to re order.

“Listen members, we have much to do if we want to find the savior before anyone else.” He booms, nearly a head taller than anyone else he still hoists himself onto a sitting room couch like a cretin, “Angelina, how is the research, you are going into the records of children noted alone in the areas around Harry’s disappearance place and time?” He asks, casting a grin at Angelina, who is far too attentive seeming for the atmosphere around her.

“We have no evidence yet, but we have the surrey school records, including all of the-boy-who-lived’s muggle primary school records, as long as the records from the muggle government, although we have gone through neither of those.” She peps up, taking a giant binder out of her bag. I am close enough to Hadrian to feel him tense, but whatever that is about I have no idea.

“Angelina however did you get those?” He asks incredulously, but she simply winks at him, “Ignoring that mystery, how is the art department going, Cho I believe that you are covering that?”

“Yes we have a photo of him when he was young, now all we need to do is hypothesize how he might look now.” She gestures wildly at a small photo-the one circulated everywhere after his disappearance- with a strange amount of ink on her fingers.

Oliver Wood looks satisfied, giving a grin at Cho before continuing, “Fred and George, how is the …” he pauses for a moment “Your department going?”

“Theorie-” Fred starts

“Conspiracies department is going great Oliver, all we need now is to decide which ones are feasible.” George grins, and Fred looks mildly annoyed at his twin.

“Then we should get to work, every moment wasted is another which Harry could be killed!” He shouts, and looks at Hadrian briefly, who has a cocked eyebrow, “Not you Harry, the uh-other Harry.” Everybody seems to file into a group, but Hadrian who I have been sticking to has not gone anywhere, standing silently.

“Hadrian?” I address him, and he looks up at me with those ever so chilling eyes that sometimes make even the most brave of souls want to curl up into a ball and call out for comfort, the legiminancy saying is that the eyes are the window to the soul, but Hadrian’s just look like empty pits that would lead to a void of nothingness that would forever be a personal hell..

“What do you expect to find of Harry Potter?” He asks with a chilling calm, before emotion seeps back into his eyes and he gives a mischievous grin, “Like what are you all going for, are you just going to find a random eleven year old somewhere who has no idea what you are all saying and think he will be so cool or something?”

“They expect Harry Potter to be some sort of savior that will stop all of their problems,” I scoff, and look at the ground in mild  shame, “I think Harry Potter would be a great ally to have, that is what father wants after all.” I spit out with as much bitterness as I can muster without my bones screaming for me to stop.

“So that is what people want Potter for?” He spits out the name, then grabs my arm, “C’mon I have joined Conspiracies and you have joined me.” So we walk over to the corner of the room where Fred and George are talking animatedly at the rest of the Weasley gang and the muggle-mudblood girl Herm-Granger.

“Show him photos of all of the correctly aged and appeared photos we can find!” Fred exclaims, smacking his fist down on the table as the Prefect weasley looks on in disappointment.

“What?” Hadrian asks politely, looking between the conspiratorial close knit group, “I didn’t catch what you just said.”

“We are going to go to the Dursleys and show them all the photos we can find of wizard boys who look vaguely like the potters and see if they can pick the likely ones.” He shouts with cheer, barely being louder than the discourse at other tables.

“Thats stupid.” Prefect weasley says, “How could we find all the photos of wizards, there are thousands of us born every year in London alone.”

Granger looks speculative, Ron looks to be supporting the twins, and I am unsure, “I think it’s a bad Idea.” Hadrian mutters, looking up at the twins, “How about we try to look for kidnapped kids and test all those that we find, If Harry Potter is alive why don’t we know where he is, he must be kidnapped!” Hadrian all but shouts, a strange passion enveloping his voice.

“I guess you have a point” I hear George mutter.

 

\----------------------December 12 Draco POV-----------------

I wake up to the sound of shouting on a nice Saturday morning, when I look around the room Hadrian is already gone, which is exceedingly strange.

‘There is no way that I am going to do this, it is simply absurd!’ I hear muffled through the walls, the voice seemingly desperate and angry.

‘It’s just the rules firstie, nothing you can do to change them!’ I hear, and chuckles emanate through the wall in the way that gives me a strange gut feeling and sends shivers through my spine.

‘There is no reason for you to do this mockery, it is simply absurd and barbaric in a time like this!’ I hear more desperate than before, but the other voices respond, ‘Trying to be a ministry drovel driven lemming, you know that mudbloods are ruining this fine school, so why do you care!’ the other voice seems haughty, and the gut feeling makes me want to run down there but it would be unseemly without the proper attire.

‘Oh dearie me, attacking the helpless just because you can! What an indicator of maturity, I may be four or so years younger than you and your friends, and a solid ten inches shorter but I am more mature.’

‘By defending the rights of people who deserve their criticism, like a suffragette for the lives of house elves? You act like a child and are one, to get ahead in this world you just have to deal with the things that upset you child. Saying the word mudblood can’t HURT you!’’ I have to fight the urge to freeze in order to put on the layers of robes in the correct order.

_ Nobody is in the Slytherin common room at this time, nobody is there to help him. _

_ But I can’t help him either. _

‘And it can never hurt you to follow the ideas of the people to get more support, you would be a trash politician and disappoint everybody that you care about by actually following you bigoted and shitty opinions. Stop me now if you know even the vaguest ideas of what charisma is, how ever did you get the friends along the way without them? Or are they just allies to you.” The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but is unrecognizable through the mostly soundproof walls of the dungeons, the only reason I can probably hear them is because of how close my room is to the common room.

There is a moment of silence that seems to stretch on forever before a sudden loud sound erupts, I feel my feet move without me wanting them to, but it still takes precious moments as more sharp cracks sound - but these of magic.

When I finally enter the scene I see the strange painting scene in front of me but the fight is played dirty and time seems to slow down. A fifth year if pushed to the ceiling painfully, a second fifth year who I vaguely recognize as a prefect is pinning Hadrian to the ground. All three wands seem to be pushed to the outer edge of the room, the fifth year on the ceiling is seemingly passed out, the perfect pinning Hadrian has some decoration stabbed into his gut, and Hadrian’s face is covered in bruises.

Without thinking I feel my hands pushing the perfect off of Hadrian, a thought of using my wand passes through my mind but I had left it in my room. Hadrian uses this opening to stand up and grab the prefect by his scarf, twisting it with a burst of magic so that the prefect gasps for breath. Without missing a beat the fifth year on the ceiling falls, pinning me to the floor under the weight of the fifth year who seems to be at least six foot tall, and the scarf snaps. Within the time that it takes me to get out from under the heavy body the prefect has regained his want, using it to blast Hadrian into the snake terrarium behind us.

I run to the prefect, hitting his arm hard enough to knock the wind out of me-possibly breaking a rib with how much it hurts- and knocking the wand out of his hand. As we fight like muggles -with him winning and trying to lift me up by the collar of my robe-  a large amount of hissing happens behind us, and the snake latches onto his leg, biting through the leather of his boots. He screams and drops me, sending me crashing to the floor as Hadrian runs to catch me. As Hadrian helps me up and the prefect desperately tries to tear the snake from his leg, I see a flash of silver, Hadrian has thrown a large shard of broken glass which is suddenly shaped like a needle at the aggressor, catching him between the ribs.

The terrifying man keeps advancing anyways, the snake crushed on the floor, and he throws a strong punch directly at Hadrian. As my friend hits the floor I latch onto the nearest thing of the enemy, which happens to be hair. He desperately tries to throw me off as I desperately tear large chunks out of his carefully manicured hair, suddenly switching to trying to tear out his eyes. The fifth year manages to push me off then stills, hands going up in surrender. Across the room Professor Snape’s dark eyes land on the prefect.

“Thanks for helping me Draco.” I hear Hadrian croak out, and his face is covered in blood, slashes, and bruises. Snape walks over to us and carefully pulls both of us to our feet.

“Why are Slytherins fighting like wild cats?” Snape asks, a mild amusement and worry slightly seeping through in a way that I as his godson can tell but nobody else can hear, listening only to the outer layer of anger.

“He started it!” Shouts the prefect, sounding young and petty, and Snape looks at him with the same interpretation, looking then to us for our side of the story, but I have no idea what that even is. A group of other Slytherins have gathered around us now, with another fifth year standing from where Snape came from, casting sheepish grins at the prefect.

“He punched me first.” Hadrian says coldly, stopping slightly to spit a wad of blood and broken glass onto the floor, “It was a fight of words alone until he punched me for no justifiable reason.”

“You refused to say the common room password, a punch is merciful compared to waiting outside in the cold all night!” He sounds haughty, but the vision is ruined by the peanut gallery staring at him with his chunks of hair torn out, a neck covered in rope burns, and multiple stab wounds.

“The password was Mudblood!” Hadrian shouts, his face turning red behind the purple motley of bruises, “How can you expect me to say that!” He yells, earning an odd eye quirk from professor Snape.

“That is no reason to take the fight to the physical Mckinglsey, detention every night for the next month, and Dumbledore will decide if you get to keep the prefect position that your mother begged for me to give you.” He snapps turning an eye to the two of us, “And to you two, you get detention for the next three nights for stabbing another student.” He looks mildly worried for all of us, and the peanut gallery looks tense, “Now all of you go to the medical wing before I get reprimanded for letting students die.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am most likely going to end this part of the story, and add it to a collection where I will continue it with a time skip until the part of the story where Tom will enter in. When starting this story I thought the intro would only constitute about ten thousand words, but to be honest this was the first fic I started and got it heavily wrong. If any of you still like the style of just covering Harry as he gains friends and fights in his first few years of Hogwarts, but I still want to skip to the romance section of this.  
> I hope all of you support me in this decision, but I doubt my own judgement, so I just want you all to know this if you care enough. Thank you for even bothering to care about this dumpster fire of an intro, and I hope I can make the next section of the story better.  
> Thank you all so much for motivating me to write!

Soft steps emanate from the room behind me, a loud echo in the room of high walls and curved ceilings. My host’s body reaches for the pillar closest, a faint echo of the cold marble registering in my mind as well as his. The child stays quiet, a tense silence that both of us can feel deeply, but I cannot tell if the child knows that I know of his existence.

“The third floor is forbidden to all students.” Quirrell’s voice sounds, stirring the boy.

“I know.” He sounds back. The mirror looks the same no matter how many times our shared eyes are pointed at it, and I almost want to wrench the soul; of this drasted teacher until he realizes how stupid he is.

“Quite the rule-breaker you are young one. Was it only last week you were caught in the restricted section.” He pauses but the boy doesn’t talk, “Did nobody tell you that the books scream?”

“Nobody told me that the teachers let trolls roam the halls either.” The last words were pointed and sharp, like a young me, barbed as if to call Abraxas to action.

Before I can advise Quirrinus what to say next, he snaps out a gritty uncultured, “So you found out, yeah? You think yourself so smart, it would have been better if the troll killed you then Potter, maybe then it would have saved your little club the trouble.” Though before he even recovers his breathe I take it away again, using the footholds in his mind and threads all around to pull away, his own soul, replacing it wholly as my own. Though from the outside it looks only as a thin gas flowing from the eyes.

“If you wanted to kill me all you had to do was say my name to the right people, while you wait for me to go back to summer break. Are you stupid or are you smarter than me?” Complete curiosity emanates from his voice, but the memory of my voice asking about Horcruxes in just that tone causes a forced out laugh.

“Quirrell was much stupider than you child, and that is exactly what he wanted to do. And that's saying a lot, seeing as you simply changed your last name to your mother’s maiden.” 

“Who are you?” He asks, almost completely ignoring the previous line, to my surprise. 

“Did you already forget about me little shadow? How could you forget about me, Marvolo?”

“Marvolo,     …. Who is Voldemort.” Harry then raised his wand, pointing it as a child points a toy weapon, with the grasp completely wrong. In any normal circumstance this would be threatening, but the enormous weight of magic is just centered in a staticky layer around the room like dust, ready to push and pull on the surroundings.

“A Potter? Raising a wand to an unarmed opponent, that is simply unheard of!” I say in fake shock, fighting the sinister grin that my lips curl into, “Are you sure you aren’t my son, now wouldn’t that be a dramatic scene, like the drivel that your Aunt used to watch. Though I would have to say that It is impossible, because I would never shag such a mudblood.”

“Nobody will come to save you though, I saw how all of your friends were left discarded on the floor of those traps, did you even stop to care? Your friend Cedric discarded limp like a cut puppet on the floor of the room with that infernal key, Hermione drank the wrong potion didn’t she? Ron sacrificed himself in that chess game, he wouldn’t of had such a hard time if I didn’t remove some of the pieces!”

“You’re Insane, you need help.”

“Well it doesn’t matter, It’s not like you’re leaving the room anyways, alive. But listen to the idea, somebody told Voldemort that e needs mental health! Let alone that you’re my supposed mortal enemy.”

“I’m the one with the wand pointed at you.”

“Well then what are you waiting for? Do IT.” The ground moves around my feel, piercing my boots to pin me to the ground, it is a simple spell that I can easily end, “Though we both know that this move is just a bluff.”, the grip on the wand is loose, but the face scrunched in childish anger.

“It’s not.”

“Then prove it.” My own wand materializes in my own hand, simply summoned from the holster in a small display of slight of hand, though the fear in the child’s eyes is real.  He raises his wand and does a small hand motion, muttering furiously in very broken Latin. But at the end of his small rant, nothing happens. The room buzzes in little bolts of black electricity but nothing comes of it.

“ _ Geth Lied _ ” he whispers, as if the petty betrayal of some probably con artist is the thing he should be worried about now, even though he is staring down at the beacon of my magic,

“Well then,” I cough as if clearing my throat, casting what amounts to a disappointed parent look at Harry, though he just eyes me suspiciously, “Avada Kedavra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am most likely going to go through with the plan I listed above, but I would really like to know if any people have any significant thoughts on this one way or the other!


End file.
